


Accidentally on Purpose

by Shiori07



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Family Drama, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Flirting, Innuendo, M/M, Some angst, Trans Female Pidge | Katie Holt, adashi/shadam is definitely making an appearance now because I am Upset, hints of depression/anxiety, hints of homophobia/biphobia, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-09 23:43:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 37,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12286725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiori07/pseuds/Shiori07
Summary: Or, altenatively, "The Kogane/McClain Guide to Platonically Flirting with Your Not-Boyfriend." #NoHomoBecause why not have a flirting contest with your long-standing rival? Keith and Lance were friends (barely). It's not like they liked each other or could ever fall in love. Definitely. This was just another way among countless others to one-up each other. Besides, hotshot Lance McClain needed to be put in his place. Of course Keith knew how to flirt. He wasn't an idiot.Our two idiots go to college together and decide flirting with each other is totally normal. But down the line, their little contest becomes the least of their problems.





	1. Bet

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! So, I'm relatively new to AO3 and writing Voltron fanfics. I probably shouldn't be starting this because I have no idea what my posting schedule will be like, but I really wanted to do this, so I just went for it. Consider this my pilot episode. If it gets a good response, I'll hurry back to writing the next chapter. And if I continue, chapters will most likely be this length, possibly longer to make up for the wait. But anyway, this one was pretty fun, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
> 
> Also, sidenote. I have minor Shallura and Hunay in this story, but if you don't like them all that much, that's fine. I don't focus on them much since I added them mostly to advance the plot.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Just call me when you do it. I’ve been dying for the day you finally need my help hiding a dead body.”

Keith growled into his coffee, setting his mug down with a sharp _tap_ before looking up again. “I didn’t think he would be this late. Sorry, Pidge.”

Pidge didn’t even glance away from her computer as she answered, glasses reflecting the mostly-white screen back at him. “It’s no problem. You and I haven’t had a chance to hang out much recently, so I don’t mind. Besides, it’s Lance. You expect him to be on time all the time?”

“Well I didn’t expect him to be _two hours late.”_

And two hours was pretty damn late considering they had planned this yesterday and now it was _eight o’clock at night._ Keith was so close to banging his head on the table, but restrained himself for the sake of Pidge’s essay. He knew from the start of the semester that having the same Philosophy class as Lance fucking McClain would end in disaster, but no, they both had to think it would have been easy and miss the opportunity to drop the class before it was too late. Now they had to do a stupid presentation together and Keith was about to lose his mind with how _infuriating_ working with Lance was. He had already known the guy for two years, you think he would have been prepared for this. But apparently, attempting to work on a simple project with the guy that competed with you over everything was like trying to bench press Mt. Everest.

Keith crossed his arms, jaw clenching as he stared moodily out the window. It was getting dark out, the sun had already started to set a while ago. Everything outside was tinged a dark orange, the streets turning dark and the trees looking like silhouette-versions of themselves. After a few minutes, the front of the café lit up with yellow streetlights, making a dent in the darkness, but not a big one.

It would probably be good to also mention that Pidge and Keith had been waiting for two hours straight in the same café for Lance to show his stupid ass through the door. Keith didn’t take too well to sitting in the same place for very long, and it was taking all his self-control to keep from fidgeting and calmly sip his coffee like the mature twenty-year-old he supposedly was. Pidge had no problem though, she had been sitting on her laptop the whole time working on her English essay, and Keith had to say he was impressed with her level of focus despite having to deal with him the entire time.

“You know what? We can just go, I’m not waiting any longer for that asshole to show up with excuses.”

“Wait, I’m almost done with this draft.” Pidge still didn’t look at him, glancing down at some notes she had in her lap before going back to clacking away at her keyboard. “And don’t get too mad, maybe he had an emergency or something.”

“Or maybe he’s chatting up another girl.”

“That too. But he’s Lance, at least give him a chance to explain himself.”

“How about I give him a chance to shove his excuse up his—”

_“Ahem!”_

From over by the cash register, an employee with black, curly hair paused in wiping the counter, looking over at them pointedly.

“Sorry, Leo,” Pidge called. “I’ll make sure Keith washes his mouth out with soap later.”

Keith grimaced. “I know you actually mean that. Please don’t.”

“Just keep it PG, please,” Leo answered, smirking a bit as he glanced between them. “There’s no need to scrape off a layer of his tongue for that.”

“Well how else are we supposed to clean out all the filth caked on in there?”

Keith kicked Pidge’s chair and she smirked at him.

“Just looking out for you. Don’t want you to get sick.”

He gave her an unamused look. “Why are we friends?”

“Because you adore me.”

“Maybe not in so many words.”

“What are you guys even still doing here anyway?” Leo asked. He was walking over to their table now, drying his hands on his apron. “You’ve been here for hours.”

“Keith was going to meet up with Lance but he hasn’t showed yet.”

Leo’s eyebrows crinkled. “Meet up for what?”

“Philosophy project,” Keith grumbled. “At this point I should just do the entire thing by myself and then rat him out to the professor so he fails.”

“He’d just do his own presentation and then it would just be the two of you fighting over who can do it better. Again.”

“Thank you, Pidge.”

“No problem. Happy to revisit your failures any time.”

Leo glanced at Keith. “Failures?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Speaking of failures.” Pidge had finally glanced up from her computer, looking out the window on the opposite side of the café. “Lance finally showed up.”

Keith abruptly stood from his seat, chair scraping back loudly. “Finally, that mother—”

The bell attached to the front door tinkled, letting in a gust of cool air and the current (almost perpetual) object of Keith’s hatred.

“Hey, everybody. How’s it going?” Lance asked, smiling easily and strolling towards pretty much the only people in the café. He was dressed casually, sporting dark denim jeans and a white baseball tee with blue sleeves. But there was just something about the way he waltzed in there with one hand in his pocket that made Keith’s irritation flare.

“Why the fuck are you so late, Lance?!” he immediately snapped, only for Leo to smack him pointedly on the shoulder.

“Language! You’re lucky I like you guys, otherwise I’d follow our policy and throw you out.”

“Yeah, Keith, watch your mouth,” Lance added, seamlessly slipping into their conversation. “Why are you so pissed anyway? I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Here two hours late,” Keith returned, toning it back a little bit but still pushing some venom into his words.

“What? No, I’m not.” Lance blinked, dark eyes still on Keith. He was standing next to the table, angled towards him, hands shoved in his pockets. “We said Jan’s Java at eight on Wednesday.”

“That is so not what we said,” Keith grumbled, his arms crossed over his black t-shirt. “You think I wanted to stay out until eight at night to meet for a stupid project?”

“If you didn’t want to then why are we here?!”

_“Because you got the wrong time, idiot!”_

“Boys, please.” Pidge paused in her typing, borderline sighing as she looked at the two of them in turn. “You guys wrote this down somewhere, right? Just pull it up.”

Lance immediately whipped out his phone, glaring down at it as he pressed his thumb to the home button. “Yeah, I did! I’ll prove that we said eight, Mullet, just you wait.”

Keith just looked at him expectantly, eyebrow raised as he waited. Having yet another petty fight with Lance was not how he wanted to spend his Wednesday night—or any night, for that matter—but it would be worth it to see that arrogant smirk get smacked off his face.

The three watched as Lance tapped at his phone, eyes fixed in concentration. After a minute, he seemed to finally reach his calendar and stopped, smirking slightly as he stared down at it.

And kept staring.

And staring.

Slowly, his smile became a thin line.

“I swear it said eight.”

There was a collective groan.

“And to think we thought you were caught up hitting on some poor chick,” Pidge sighed.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Lance snapped grudgingly, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “But this doesn’t make a difference, does it? We can still stay and work on our project.”

“No, we can’t because it’s late now and I have to walk Pidge back to her dorm.”

Pidge raised her hand. “Hello.”

Leo looked down at Keith again. “Why do you have to do that? The dorms are pretty close to here.”

Keith grimaced. He really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Because last time he didn’t walk me home, his brother called him and Matt threatened to strangle him to death.”

There was a sigh. “Thanks, Pidge.”

She just continued to smile. “Plus, I’m training Keith to be a gentleman. He still needs some work.”

“That is true,” Lance added nonchalantly.

Keith glared at both of them.

“He’s not that bad,” Leo interjected.

“Thank you.”

Leo smiled at him. “Well, I’m sure you guys will figure out your project. I gotta start closing shop. You need anything before you go?”

Keith waved him off. “I’m good, thanks.”

“Well I, my dear Leo, would like my usual,” Lance said brightly. “Oh, but with an extra shot of espresso.”

“It’s eight at night!” Keith exclaimed, looking at him exasperatedly.

Lance turned and winked at him. “Extra energy at night is good for a lot of things.”

“And you, Pidge?” Leo asked.

The girl thought on it for a second. “Hot chocolate to go.”

“Whipped cream?”

“Surprise me.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back with that. You sure you don’t want anything, Keith?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks, Leo.”

“Okay.” He smiled and turned to head back to the counter. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

“’Kay,” Keith called before turning back to the table. Two pairs of eyes were staring at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” Pidge answered. Lance just rolled his eyes.

_“What?”_

“Nothing, nothing,” Lance assured, waving him off. “So, what are we doing about this project? I did not just come here for nothing.”

“I don’t know,” Keith snapped, still annoyed that they were obviously keeping something from him. “I have to drop Pidge off. We could stay at mine, it’s in that direction.”

“You want me to come to your apartment to work on a school project?”

“Yeah, genius, what else could I mean?”

“While I am certainly charmed, I don’t have any overnight stuff… we could go to your place to get your stuff and then we can head to _my_ apartment. Hunk’s out on a date so he won’t be back ‘til late anyway.”

“He finally ask Shay out?” Pidge paused in her essay to look up at Lance, leaning over the table slightly.

“Hell yeah, he did. After two years of them obviously pining after each other. I’m so glad I talked him into it.”

“You’re my hero.”

“I know. I’m the real MVP, aren’t I?

Keith rolled his eyes. “I’m fine with staying over. So long as we get this project done.”

“Okay, sweet. Sounds like a plan.”

Just then, Leo came over, one coffee cup in each hand. “Hot cocoa for the lady,” he said, setting a cup beside Pidge’s computer. “And a mini heart attack for the gentleman.”

Lance grinned, taking the cup and cradling its warmth with two hands. “Hey, if it kills me, at least I die happy.”

Keith scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You and me both.”

“Okay. _Rude._ I just offered to let you stay at my place. Where are your manners?”

Keith didn’t answer, merely stood from his seat, snatching his bag from the chair beside him. “Let’s just get going. We need to get this project done and I actually want to sleep tonight.”

“Oh, look at me, I’m Keith and I only pay attention to what other people have to say when it’s convenient for me because I’m _selfish.”_

_“And you’re a child!”_

“Bye, Leo,” Pidge cut in while she could, shouldering her own bag with a sigh. “We’ll see you next time.”

“Bye, guys. Good luck with your project!” Leo called, waving to the three as they left the café. Politely, Lance stopped in glaring at Keith to wave farewell. Taking the opportunity, Keith turned and nodded his own greeting. Leo smiled back before the door rang shut behind them.

It was a quiet night as the three walked back in the direction of the university. The sun had just about set by now, the sidewalk lit up mostly by streetlights and the small tinge of orange offered by the horizon. Only a few cars passed them, rumbling quietly into the night. Several people passed as well, obviously other college students, and it was an overall peaceful walk. Keith thought the trip to the dorms might actually be pleasant.

And then Lance opened his mouth.

“So. Keith.” He had the nerve to walk next to him, leaning in to get a better look at his face. “Just how stupid are you?”

“Are you trying to start a fight?” Keith snapped, voice a borderline growl.

“No, I’m genuinely curious.”

“What the fuck, McClain?”

“Actually I agree with Lance on this one,” Pidge interrupted, glancing back at them over her shoulder. “You’re a lot denser than I thought you were. Like, damn, kid.”

“I am three years older than you. And what the hell are you talking about?”

“Back at Jan’s,” Lance said in lieu of explanation. He had his hands in his pockets again, strolling along casually. “Leo.”

“What about Leo?”

“Oh my _God._ ” Lance threw his head back dramatically. “Does someone really need to spell it out for you? He was _flirting_ with you.”

_Flirting?_

Keith fell silent, eyes squinting down at the sidewalk intensely. _Does not compute._ “No, he wasn’t.”

“Didn’t you notice that he kept finding things to ask you specifically?” Pidge nudged. “And he used our conversation as an excuse to come over and talk to us in the middle of his shift.”

“That’s just Leo. He’s always been nice.”

 _“You’re lucky I like you guys, otherwise I’d throw you out. He’s not that bad. Do you need anything before you go? Are you sure, Keith? Let me know if you change your mind._ Dude, how did you not pick up on that? He even changed the subject when I hit on you, like where were you during that entire conversation?”

“He just asked Pidge—Wait.” Keith turned his gaze sideways, locking onto Lance with wide eyes. “You hit on me?!”

“Yes, Keith. Remember? I asked for an extra shot of espresso and then I told you _‘extra energy at night is good for a lot of things.’_ I even winked! Jeez, keep up.”

Keith continued to stare at him dumbly. “You hit on me?”

“Hey, it’s _your fault_ it didn’t work. I have A+ game, I’ll have you know. You’re apparently just thicker than a rock. You don’t even know what flirting is.”

“Of course I know what flirting is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Oh yeah? Then hit me, Mullet Man. Give it your best shot.”

They came to a crosswalk, the light on the other side blaring red as some cars drove by. Lance stopped by the pole on the street corner, arms crossed as he looked at Keith expectantly. Keith froze, facing the opposite sidewalk and staring at Lance like he had grown another set of arms. Pidge watched from off to the side, eyebrow raised as she looked between them, sipping her hot chocolate.

“You want me to hit on you?”

“Yeah, man. Let’s see what you got. Prove it to me that you know what flirting is.”

“Like… right now?”

“Yes, Keith. Right now.”

There was a beat of silence.

“…I can’t just _do it_ on the spur of the moment. I don’t even like you, like what the hell?”

Lance rolled his eyes, then locked them straight on Keith. “Where are you from again?”

There was a moment where Keith just looked at him. “What?”

Lance shrugged. “It’s a simple question: where are you from?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Seriously. I’m curious.”

“Uh, _Korea?_ Why are you even asking?”

It was then that Lance smirked at him, eyes sparking. “Because you’re beautiful and I wanted a reason to talk to you.”

The reaction was a bit delayed, but once it kicked in, Keith wished he could die on command. There was no way he would admit that line actually worked on him, but _shit_ he was blushing and Lance was still smiling at him and they were doing this with a sunset in the background and _what the hell._

Beside them, Pidge coughed.

Lance seemed to realize what just happened as well, because the smile disappeared and suddenly he was shoving words out of his mouth, not making eye contact. “See? Nothing to it. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it.”

“I mean I can’t just—it’s not that—you can’t just force a line on command! It should come naturally!”

“Well then what did I just do, _huh?”_

“Doesn’t count.”

“What do you mean _‘doesn’t count’?_ That was a good one and you know it!”

“It’s not the best.”

 _“Oh yeah?_ And you can do better?”

_“Yes!”_

“Well I’m waiting.”

“…Well, not right now.”

“Oh my God, Keith.”

 _“Later!_ I need an opportunity.”

Lance scoffed. “I could pull off five more _amazing_ pick-up lines before you find your ‘opportunity’.”

“You wanna bet?”

_“Bet!”_

“While I’m glad you guys are finally getting over yourselves and shoving your mutual sexual tension down each other’s throats, can you press pause on your gay-fest for now? I really wanna get home before curfew.”

The boys whipped toward Pidge so fast, it was surprising their necks didn’t snap off. _“I am not gay for him!”_

“Riiiiight.”

Keith quickly glanced at the traffic light across from them. It was green now. Without another word, he marched over, took Pidge by the sleeve, and dragged her across the street.

“Ooo, someone’s embarrassed.”

 _“Not_ gay for him.”

Lance followed behind, hands shoved deep into his pockets and shoulders hunched in. “So not gay for him.”

*             *             *             *             *

Taking Pidge back to her dorm didn’t take more than ten minutes. She didn’t say anything other than “goodnight” when the boys left her, but she did raise her eyebrows suggestively at Keith who promptly slammed her own door in her face while leaving. And then it was just Lance and Keith heading down the road on their own, awkwardly not talking to each other the whole way.

Until they reached Keith’s apartment complex.

“You live _here?!”_

Keith rolled his eyes, watching as Lance stared up at his building with wide eyes, jaw hanging somewhere past his knees. “You got a problem with it?”

“It’s a _dump!”_ Lance turned on him, gesturing at the dark street running past it and the even darker alley running next to it that faintly smelled of stale urine and garbage. “This is such a sketchy neighborhood! Why did you let yourself stoop _this low?”_

 _Because not everyone has loving parents who help pay for everything_ was Keith’s reflexive thought, but he clenched his jaw to keep himself from snapping. Instead, he just shoved his hands in his pockets and walked passed Lance toward the nearest set of stairs. “Well _you_ don’t live here, so don’t worry about it.”

“But _still!”_ Lance continued babbling, following close behind Keith as he looked around at the building. “This place is seriously shady. I guess it fits you though, Mr. Dark and Broody. I wouldn’t be surprised if you owned these streets. Are you in a gang?”

“Says the Latino.”

There was a pause. “Touché. I shouldn’t be condoning gang stereotypes.”

Keith glanced at him, pointedly raising an eyebrow as he pulled his keys from his pocket. They were at his door, the second one on the ground level. The white paint of the wood was peeling, the brass “2” tarnished with lack of care. Then again, all the tenants’ doors were like that.

Now was the hard part. The key fit in rather easily, and the lock clicked with a simple turn of the wrist. But the one (of many) things Keith hated about his apartment was that the door didn’t quite fit correctly. It was a little big, so that when the weather was especially warm, the door stuck in the frame and refused to budge. Despite it almost being Fall, it was still warm enough out to be annoying. Keith grunted trying to open the door normally. Jaw clenched, he turned and rammed his shoulder into it twice before it finally cracked open, and Keith practically kicked it to have it bang open against the wall.

“Mm, I love a man who’s a little rough.”

Keith’s eyes widened a fraction, and he turned his head in Lance’s direction. “Are you serious right now?”

Lance shrugged. “What? We made a bet and a deal’s a deal.”

“You’re an idiot.” Keith didn’t even dignify him with a proper response as he trudged into his apartment. “Now are you going to come inside or what?”

“You’re just flustered because you didn’t expect me to flirt with you again.” Keith could practically hear his smirk along with the sound of the door slamming shut. He flicked the lights on, revealing his very small, very messy apartment. “I figured I should try a more direct approach so it would actually register that you were being hit on. You gotta admit, it worked.”

“Not even in the slightest.”

“Come on, dude, you can’t deny it. Not even you are a match for my _captivating charm.”_

Keith didn’t answer, merely snatching a duffel bag from his closet in the corner and rummaging in his dresser for some clothes. He knew his place was small, everything pretty much fitting in one room except the bathroom and kitchenette. It was admittedly kinda shitty, but it had the necessities so he couldn’t really complain. He knew Lance was judging though, dark eyes peering curiously around the room.

“Okay, the silent treatment. I’ll just carry on then… so you want me to talk about how small this place is or keep hitting on you?”

Keith practically stabbed him with his eyes.

“Alright then, pick-up lines it is.”

“Please no.”

“You know, I was feeling a little off today, but you definitely turned me on.”

_Groan._

“Are you a parking ticket, because you’ve got _fine_ written all over you.”

There was a _bang_ as Keith’s forehead indulged itself in repeatedly slamming against the drawer.

“I don’t have my library card with me, but is it okay if I check you out?”

“Lance…”

“Wait, wait, one more! Are you Australian? Because you definitely meet all of my _koala-fications.”_

Keith groaned again, muttering _“oh my God”_ while Lance cackled.

“Oh, come on, that was the best one! Puns are a sure-fire way into a babe’s heart.”

“No, they’re cringe-y as hell.”

“So you can do better than _puns?”_

“Anyone can do better than puns.”

“You know, you have yet to prove that to me.”

Keith abruptly shut his bag, having shoved a handful of clothes inside, and the zipper crackled loudly in the room. He stood up, kicking his drawers shut with his shin and turning on Lance. Lance watched as he walked over, probably expecting him to brush past in poorly hidden defeat.

Instead, Keith came _right up to him,_ eyes screaming murder _._ Eyes widening, Lance backed up against the wall, Keith following after. “Uh, Keith?”

“You’re going to have to learn how to shut your mouth, McClain,” Keith threatened, expression dark as he pressed Lance against the wall. He slotted their legs together, fist clenched in the white of Lance’s baseball tee. Lance didn’t move, eyes locked on the boy pining him to the wall. Keith looked him dead in the eyes. “Otherwise…” He trailed off a bit, stormy gaze flicking more than obviously at Lance’s lips before he looked up again, smirking. “I’ll shut it for you.”

Lance gulped.

And then Keith pulled away, lips still twisted into a smirk. He hefted his bag over his shoulder, then moved passed Lance toward the door. “Now, are you coming? I really want to get this project over with.”

Noticing that he wasn't being followed, Keith glanced into the room from the doorway, eyebrow raised. “Lance?”

He could see Lance across the room, head turned to face him, eyes wide and staring. He still had his back against the wall, shoulders slumped.

Keith felt himself smirk again and leaned casually against the doorframe. “What? Erection got your tongue?”

“Wha— _no!”_

Keith's eyes rolled. “Right.”

“Shut up, Mullet,” Lance snapped, finally managing to get his legs to transport him out of the apartment. Keith locked up behind him, and the two were back on the road again. “I still have more points than you.”

“Oh, so we’re using a point system now?”

 _“Yes._ And you have one and I have six.”

“The café doesn’t count.”

“Fine, _five._ But I’m still in the lead.”

“I still don’t think all the dumb pick-up lines since then count.”

“The first one so does! But fine, we can take out the other ones.”

“So, we’re one to one.

“No, _two_ to one. You weren’t expecting the second one either.”

 “Fine, whatever. And how long are we keeping this up for?”

“Until you accept that I have more game than you.”

Keith scoffed. “About as much game as Monopoly.”

“Hey, Monopoly is a serious game. It requires a lot of—” Lance turned dramatically, “—endurance.”

Keith closed his eyes, lips pressing together. “You did not just turn that into an innuendo about your libido.”

“Hell yeah, I did. And you even set it up perfectly for me. Who uses a Monopoly comparison as an insult? Lame.”

There was a sigh. “Fine. I’ll play this stupid game with you only to prove that your flirting sucks.”

Lance grinned widely. “Oh, you’re going to regret this so bad.”

“I think you mean _you_ will.”

Lance folded his arms behind his head, cocky as always. “Trash talk all you want, Mullet Man. I’m winning this thing.”

Keith just rolled his eyes again. He was vaguely surprised they hadn’t fallen out of his head yet. “Yeah. Right.”

*             *             *             *             *

When they finally got to Lance’s apartment complex, Keith was… well at first, he was overwhelmed.

It was in a nice neighborhood for one, with a park down the street that even had a playground little kids could probably be caught screaming in every day. And if Keith wasn’t mistaken, there was a grocery store about ten minutes away if you walked. The building itself was at least five stories high, looking new and clean with unchipped paint and brick. And like, there were little trees growing nearby and green grass and some bushes that were obviously trimmed on a regular basis? It was like American-Dream-suburbia just with taller buildings.

And then, after staring at it for a while, Keith decided he was just whelmed. This was exactly how he would have imagined Lance to be living.

Lance seemed to sense Keith’s initial sense of awe, because he peered over at him with a smirk. “Nice, huh?”

“Whatever,” Keith huffed, hands shoved into the pockets of his black skinny jeans. “So you have more money than me. Big deal.”

“Actually, I can barely afford to pay rent every month as it is. The only reason I don’t starve is because I split it with Hunk.”

Lance began walking down the sidewalk, heading toward a staircase closer to the middle of the building. “Now, if you would follow me, the rendezvous is this way.”

Keith rolled his eyes, bag hanging from his shoulder. “You’re lame.”

“And you’re entitled to your own opinion.”

Lance lead Keith over to the building, walking them to an open-air staircase up to the fourth floor. Keith immediately complained about all the stairs. Lance said it was a good workout and why his ass looked tight. Keith then tried to trip him so he fell up the steps.

When they finally reached the fourth floor (alive, if with some new bruises), Lance immediately made for the door right next to the staircase, standing beside it as he dug his keys out of his pocket.

“So, you sure Hunk’s out?”

“Yeah, man. He went all out on his first date with Shay. They went to see ‘The Stray’ and now they should be out at a fancy Italian place by now. He shouldn’t be back until later.”

“And I’m just going to be here? What if they come back together.”

Lance glanced at him, eyebrow raised. “Dude, you really think Hunk is gonna be like ‘hey, babe, why don’t you come back to my place?’ He’s like, the perfect gentleman and this is only their first date. Give it like… five.”

“You have a point,” Keith muttered, watching Lance open the door _which swung wide like a dream_. “But they _have_ been pining for like two years.”

“Truuuue. But the two of them together are like a cute, old, married couple. At most, they hold hands and smile a lot at each other. Now let’s go inside, it’s starting to get cold out here.”

The inside of the apartment was at least ten times better than Keith’s place. The first thing he saw when coming in was an actual kitchen, complete with an oven, stove, and fridge that was probably fully stocked knowing Lance and Hunk. An island stood in the middle next to a rustic, wooden dining table that was more than what Keith could fit into his front door. A half wall separated it from a cozy living room, which was furnished with a sea-blue couch, a lazy chair, a coffee table, and a flat screen tv that Keith was sure was hooked up to an X-box. And everything was relatively clean, which was most certainly Hunk’s doing, but still. The place was great.

Lance walked in toward the living room, glancing at Keith with a smirk over his shoulder. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“Yeah. Humble.”

“Well, I suppose, as the guy who’s technically hosting you, that I should offer you a drink or something, but then again, you’re still a gentleman-in-training so you don’t care about manners, right?”

“Haha,” was Keith’s flat response. “And I think I’m good, I don’t need your handouts.”

“See? No manners. I’m so glad Pidge is trying to teach you to be decent in society.”

A red duffel bag smacked Lance on the side of the head.

_“Hey!”_

Keith calmly walked passed him to plop down on the couch, throwing one leg over the other and resting one arm across the back. “So, are we doing this project thing or what?”

“Don’t you want, like, a tour or something?”

“You just wanna flaunt your ‘pad’.” Keith put air-quotes around the word. “Besides, I think I can figure it out myself. Bedrooms and bathrooms are down the hall.”

“Actually, it’s one bathroom. But fine, if you wanna take all the fun out of our sleepover, go right ahead.”

“This isn’t supposed to be a sleepover, we’re working on a project.”

“And then I’m letting you sleep over.”

“Whatever.”

Just then, Keith’s phone started playing _Crazy=Genius_ by Panic! at the Disco, the default ringer Keith had set for unknown numbers and people he didn't care about. Absently, he reached into his pocket and tugged his phone out, glancing at the screen.

He barely read the ID before his jaw clenched. Then, very abruptly, he tossed the phone to the side so that it hit the armrest on the other end of the couch with a _thunk_.

For a moment, Lance just looked at him. “Who was that?”

There was a beat.

“Telemarketer.”

“…But you didn’t even answer—”

“It was a telemarketer, Lance.”

Keith didn't bother trying to hide his irritation, snapping with just enough force to get the point across that he had no intention of elaborating. It was like throwing up a wall, one that Keith was more than used to seeing.

Lance apparently got the message, because he left it at that. “So. What are we doing for this class? Because, to be honest, I have no clue.”

*             *             *             *             *

“Wait. So, you want me to write that God is a selfish deity that doesn’t care about anything?”

Keith shrugged. “Basically.”

He and Lance were sitting on the floor of the living room, Keith scanning through notes from class while Lance sat across from him, laptop open on the coffee table.

It was silent for a second, so Keith glanced up to see Lance staring at him. “What?”

“…Okay. I get that you’re trying to pull off the dark, emo persona, but why are you such a Debby-Downer?”

The “Debby-Downer” rolled his eyes, going back to his notes. “I’m not. That’s just what I think.”

_“Why?”_

There was a sigh. “Lance, we’re doing our project on The Problem of Evil. You figure it out.”

Lance studied him briefly. “Are you like the Russian guy? You know, the one that was like ‘if we have to kill kids to better the world, then there’s no point.’”

“And also, bad things happen to good people. That makes no sense. And that Russian guy is Dostoevsky. You should at least know his name if we’re going to get a good grade, moron.”

“But like… bad things happen because evil exists?”

“And why does God let it?”

There was a pause. “Because He didn’t?”

Keith raised his eyebrows at him. “So, he just let’s Evil exist and destroy his precious humanity.”

Lance furrowed his eyebrows. “It exists as a choice. If we don’t actively choose good when we face suffering, then what’s the point?”

“But we have to make other people suffer for our choices?” Keith scoffed, looking back down at the notes in his lap. “You know what, you can just put down whatever you want for our response slide, I don’t care.”

For a moment, Lance continued staring and Keith did his best to ignore him. For the sake of his sanity, Keith tried not to think too hard about what they learned in Philosophy class, but this was something he couldn't help putting a lot of thought into.

“Are you atheist?”

“No, I just don’t understand God, and frankly I don’t care.”

“Hmm.”

Just then, the lock on the front door clicked, and someone was pushing into the apartment.

“Lance?”

“Living room, Hunk,” Lance answered, tearing his gaze from Keith to look toward the kitchen. Not a minute later, his roommate came into view.

Hunk had dressed pretty formally for his date, but not overly so. He had dark slacks with black socks and shoes freshly polished. His hair had been combed back, but was now hanging a bit in his face like it normally did. He wore a pale yellow shirt, which had been ironed and tucked in for his date but was now lose yet still decently unwrinkled. As soon as Hunk walked into the room, his eyes locked on their guest.

“Oh. Hey, Keith.”

“Hey.”

“Welcome home, Hunk,” Lance greeted, smirking a bit as he watched his friend walk further into the room. “ _So._ How was your first date with Shay?”

Hunk walked passed Keith and sat on the couch, laying back with his head on one armrest and calves on the other. He sighed dreamily, breath long and smile sweet as he looked up at the ceiling.

Lance grinned, patting his friend’s ankle. “I’m happy for you, buddy.”

“She’s perfect for me, Lance,” Hunk sighed again, hands thrown out at the ceiling. “Like, really perfect, I am so lucky.”

“Yeah I know. You can thank me for pushing you to ask her out.”

“Thank you _so much._ I owe you big time.”

“You can start by building a shrine in my honor and worshiping it every morning.”

“I owe you anything but that. That’s creepy.”

“Fair enough… Make me one of your smoothies?”

“Hmm… yeah. I say you earned it.”

Lance pumped his fist.

“So, what is Keith doing here? I thought you guys were gonna work on this at Jan’s.”

Keith replied without looking up from the table. “Lance was late.”

“Ah.”

“Don’t say it like that! I am not always late.”

“Yeah you are. And it’s when it’s most important too, like when you were late to your own sister’s wedding even though you were staying in the same house as her the night before _and_ you had the rings.”

“My phone was dead and no one remembered to wake me up! It was a busy day!”

Keith scoffed. “Damn, Lance. What are you, twelve?”

“On a scale from one to ten? Yes.”

Lance sent a subtle wink his way. Keith rolled his eyes.

Hunk sat up slightly, catching the change of tone but barely missing the wink as he looked over at them. “So… anyway, how much work are you guys actually getting done. You’re just playing Pac Man.”

“What?” Keith leaned around the table to glance at Lance’s computer screen and abruptly groaned. “Goddammit, Lance.”

Lance shrugged. “Google provides.”

There was a beat of silence, Keith glaring at him like he was seriously contemplating murder. That was the obvious choice for him… but then he sat back, face scarily blank as he went back to his notes.

“I can think of one thing Google doesn’t provide.”

Lance glanced at him skeptically. “What, a better haircut?”

Keith’s dark eyes were vacant as he answered. “A blowjob.”

Hunk’s body hit the floor with a loud _thud._ Lance’s face turned pink.

Keith wasn’t fazed. “But you know who does, though?”

A tiny smirk finally pulled at his lips, his eyebrows raising at Lance suggestively. Pink instantly flared to scarlet.

Hunk was on his hands and knees now, facing the coffee table and looking from Keith to Lance and back again, eyes wide. “What did I miss? Are you two like _together?_ Or is this more of a friends-with-benefits thing?”

“What? No,” Lance answered, face still burning as he stared intently at the carpet. “We’re competing on who has better game.”

“…What?”

“Flirting contest,” Keith supplied, still smirking as he watched Lance. “And I just got a point.”

“Yeah, okay, you get that one. But don’t be so smug about it cuz I’m _still_ gonna destroy you!”

Hunk continued to stare. “You two… are having a flirting contest. Platonically.”

Keith shrugged, going back to his notes. “Pretty much.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Right. Okay, good luck with that.” Hunk got up from the ground, turning to head toward the hallway. “I’m just gonna head to bed now. You know, in my room. With the door shut. And headphones on.”

Lance’s gaze stopped drilling holes to the third floor to follow Hunk out of the room. “No one’s having sex, Hunk.”

“No, right, of course. It’s just ambience so I can sleep. With no loud noises to keep me up.”

“Right… ‘night, Hunk!”

“’Night, guys.”

“’Night.”

There was the sound of a door closing, leaving Keith and Lance alone in the living room, still leafing through notes and staring at walls respectively.

“You know, I can do it quietly. I just need to know that you’re not a screamer first.”

“Oh my God, Keith,” Lance groaned, face falling into his hands. Keith snickered.

“So, is that another point?”

“No, you’re basically building off the same line. Doesn’t count.”

“Hmm. Fair enough.”

Keith went back to reading his notes, and for a while, Lance kept studying his palms extremely closely. Finally, after he seemed sufficiently calmed, he looked up and put his focus back on their PowerPoint.

“A gag is also an option.”

_“Keith!”_

Keith smirked. This game might actually be fun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Score:  
> Keith - 2  
> Lance - 2
> 
> And there you have it. I introduced a lot of things that I will most likely be incorporating into the plot in later chapters. Some are more obvious than others, but I think I've laid out enough to keep it interesting as we go. To be honest though, this story is mostly just me writing about how crappy our society is and how it could be better. All incorporated into a lovely Klance story. So yeah, this is almost like a journal? We'll just see how this all works out. The amount of tags will probably grow too. Anyway, thanks for reading!
> 
> This is the part where I should probably promote my Tumblr, but I recently just made it so it's literally the most generic thing ever. If I have it fixed by next chapter, I'll let you know so you have another medium to yell at me with.


	2. Smoothies and Takeout... and Bad Sound Effects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to write this chapter in a week, but don't expect that forever or else you will be severely disappointed. But I was so psyched by the positive response the first chapter got! Thanks so much, guys! I made this chapter for you, but I'm not sure if it's as good. It's more of a transitional/development chapter so not as much flirting. There still is some, but there will also be more in the future, I promise. And trust me, it's amazing. I've already written parts and I killed myself laughing. I know I'm posting this the day season 4 comes out (which I am hella excited for) so I probably should wait to post, but whatever. I'm sure everyone will be binge-watching it all in one day and then be craving fanfiction (that's what I'm gonna be doing). Hopefully this helps curb any Klance withdrawals we end up having...

Staying at Lance’s that night actually wasn’t as bad as Keith thought it was going to be. Sure, there was the usual banter and arguments over what to do with their project, but, surprisingly, they were able to actually get shit done. By two in the morning, their presentation was pretty much finished, minus the typos that were undoubtedly there due to lack of sleep. But that could be dealt with at a later date.

“Alright,” Lance groaned, stretching his arms out from the floor. “While Lance would love to start braiding your hair and gossiping, he needs his beauty rest.”

“Please don’t refer to yourself in third person.”

“Lance doesn’t like your attitude. Lance would really appreciate it if you would be a nicer person to him because he was nice enough to let you sleep at his apartment.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just get me a blanket or something.”

Lance stood, stretching his long legs. “Hmm. Lance isn’t sure about that. He thinks that maybe you don’t deserve a blanket.”

“Just get me a blanket, you dick.”

“Lance also appreciates that you think about his dick, but now is really not the time.” He winked. Keith took a pillow from the couch and threw it at him. _“Rude.”_

“It’s two in the morning. Don’t you have an 8 AM or something?”

“Not on Thursdays. So I can technically refuse your request for as long as I want.”

“Either you give me a blanket or I sleep in your room.”

“Oh, so you wanna sleep with Lancey-Lance, huh?” Lance bounced his eyebrows. Keith facepalmed at the nickname.

“You’re the one that refused my blowjob.”

Lance acted like that didn’t affect him, but Keith smirked at the slight flush of his cheeks. “Like you could give a decent blowjob.”

“You wanna find out?”

That really made Lance’s cheeks heat up. “I’m just gonna get you a blanket.”

Keith snickered as Lance awkwardly left the room. Now that he was gone, Keith took the opportunity to grab his duffel bag and head to the bathroom.

It was the whitest place in the apartment. White tile, white walls, white sink. The countertop was beige, set on a slightly darker cabinet that could have been pine. The shower curtain was blue though, with wave designs that Lance had undoubtedly chosen. And it was clean, which was more than what Keith could say about _his_ bathroom.

He got changed, switching his “emo clothes,” as Lance called them, with black shorts and a red t-shirt. After he had brushed his teeth and washed his face, he exited the bathroom, only to have something thrown at the side of his head.

“What the—?” Keith grabbed it, pulling it off his head and realizing it was a blanket. “Lance!”

Lance stood at the end of the hall, grinning smugly with a pillow under his arm. “Hey, you’ve been throwing stuff at me all night, I think I deserve a turn. And also, here.” Taking the pillow, he dropped and punted it so it landed on Keith’s feet.

Keith rolled his eyes, stooping down to pick it up. “Goodnight, Lance.”

“’Night, Keith! Have fun sleeping on the couch! It gives you back pain.”

He was simply flipped the bird, and the two went their separate ways for the night.

Keith walked back into the living room and tossed his bedding onto the couch. He dropped his bag back on the floor, then went to lay down, spreading his blanket out over his legs and settling on his side. Soft moonlight spilled through the blinds of the nearby window, giving everything a silver glow. Despite the sound of someone moving around on the floor above, it was rather peaceful.

Sleep came pretty quickly, which was something Keith was grateful for. But it didn’t come fast enough to stop him from realizing Lance had given him SpongeBob themed sheets and think, with a mental eyeroll, _He really is a child._

*             *             *             *             *

Lance was exaggerating about how horrible the couch was. Keith thought it wasn’t that bad, Lance was probably just used to a queen-sized bed with memory foam.

What _was_ horrible though, was how he woke up that morning. A certain someone was singing terrible renditions of old Kesha songs in the shower. It wasn’t hard to guess who.

 _“Don’t stop, make it pop_  
_DJ, blow my speakers up_  
_Tonight, I’m-a fight_  
_Till we see the sunlight_  
_Tick-tock on the clock_  
_But the party don’t stop, no!_

_“Woah-oh oh oh  
Woah-oh oh oh!”_

Keith was severely disappointed in the noise-cancelling ability of pillows in this century. That was the real new innovation people needed to work on. They’d get an award for sure.

He groaned, body curled toward the back of the couch with his pillow clamped over his head. He had checked his phone a minute ago, he didn’t have to get up for another two hours for work.

“He does this every morning,” Hunk said, leaning casually on the divider between the kitchen and the living room. “You get used to it after a while.”

“This is literal hell,” Keith responded into his pillow. “Please tell me it’s not Kesha all the time.”

“Eh. Sometimes it’s Rihanna or Beyoncé. Occasionally, he’ll sing something that’s actually from this decade.”

 _“Ain’t got a care in the world, but got plenty of beer,_  
_Ain’t got no money in my pocket, but I’m already here_  
_And now the dudes are lining up ‘cause they hear we got swagger_  
_But we kick ‘em to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger!”_

Keith abruptly threw his blanket to the other end of the couch and sat up. “Hunk, you are a god among men.”

Hunk shrugged. “I try.”

Keith stood, grumbling to himself as he made for the hallway. “Lance!” he shouted, banging on the bathroom door. “Shut up and open the door, I have to pee!”

Lance just got louder.

 _“Now, now, we goin’ till they kick us out, out_  
_Or the police shut us down, down_  
_Police shut us down, down_  
_Po-po shut us—_

_“Don’t stop, make it pop  
DJ, blow my speakers up!”_

Keith huffed and tried the doorknob. Locked. He turned, heading back toward the living room where Hunk was still watching.

“You have a paperclip?”

“Uh, sure. In the drawer.”

Hunk pointed behind him with his thumb and watched as Keith walked into the kitchen. There was a slight clattering of metal as he pulled out the box, slipping a paperclip out and closing the drawer shut again. Then he went back down the hallway, bending the paperclip as he went. Once he reached the door, he fit it into the lock, jiggling it until it fit, and then he turned. The knob clicked.

Without a word, Keith opened the door. It was really warm inside. Steam rose beyond the shower curtain and the mirror was fogged up. Lance’s silhouette could be seen dancing to the music in his head. He was still singing too loudly to hear anything going on outside the shower.

 _“DJ, you build me up_  
_You break me down_  
_My heart it pounds_  
_Yeah, you got me_  
_With my hands up_  
_Put your hands up_  
_Put your hands up!”_

Keith made his way passed the toilet, hand reaching for the curtain.

_“No, the party don’t start ‘til I—HIJO DE PUTA!”_

Keith simply stared, expression bored. “Are you done?”

Lance scrambled for the curtain, covering himself as he peeked outside. _“¿KEITH, QUÉ MIERDA?_ _¡NO PUEDES ENTRAR AQUÍ!"_

“Are you cussing me out in Spanish right now?”

_“¿QUÉ MIERDA CREES?”_

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Unfazed Keith turned toward the toilet, lifting the seat.

“Whoa, wait, what are you doing?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Taking a piss?”

“You can’t just come in here and pee while I’m _in the shower!”_

“I mean I can. I don’t know why you’re complaining, this is a perfect excuse for you to look at my dick.”

Lance fell silent, staring at Keith with wide eyes. Keith smirked.

“I wouldn’t mind if you fantasized a little bit too. It doesn’t even have to be a fantasy. I can come in there and—”

_“OH MY GOD, KEITH, SHUT UP!”_

Lance disappeared into the shower, curtain whipping shut with the sound of the metal rings screeching, and Keith laughed. _Three to two._

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Hunk stared at the hallway, eyes wide.

A few minutes later, Keith came out of the bathroom, obviously smirking, and went toward his bag which was still on the floor. Hunk watched as he rummaged around, pulling out the same jeans from yesterday and a red flannel.

He was just about to pull his shirt over his head when he noticed Hunk was staring. “What?”

“…You want a smoothie?”

“Sure.”

Hunk turned toward the kitchen, and Keith started getting dressed to the sounds of a blender screaming.

As he fastened the last buttons of his shirt, Keith wandered into the kitchen, leaning on the island as Hunk cut a banana into his drink concoction.

“So, are these smoothies famous or something? Lance seemed beyond excited when you said you were gonna make them.”

“He’s always liked them, but I just started working at the Smoothie King down the street from Jan’s last month. He says they’ve gotten five times better since then.” Hunk dropped some strawberries into the blender and put the lid on.

Keith watched as the fruit, milk, and ice were obliterated and swirled into a pale pink concoction. After a minute, Hunk switched the blender off, taking the glass pitcher from the base and setting it on the counter. He turned to a cabinet on his left, taking three glasses down. A minute later, he was setting one in front of Keith filled with pink smoothie, a candy cane straw sticking out of it.

“I would usually do something a little fancier than strawberry-banana, but I have to leave for class soon.”

Keith took a small sip. “That’s fine. It’s good, actually.”

Hunk gave him a smile. “Thanks.”

There was the sound of a door closing and footsteps coming down the hall.

“Hey, Lance, you’re smoothie's on the… counter.”

Keith glanced up from his breakfast, catching the way Hunk froze for a millisecond, staring blankly into the living room. Then, as quickly as he froze, he turned back toward the sink and busied himself with washing the blender. That was… weird. Keith was just about to turn around when Lance spoke from next to him.

“Yes! Hunk, you are an angel.”

A tanned hand reached over Keith, grabbing at the last unclaimed smoothie. Keith finally turned and— _Mother of God._

_Lance was wearing booty shorts._

Lance grinned at his drink, taking a sip and moaning— _moaning—_ in appreciation. “This is such a great way to start the day.” Still smiling, he casually hopped onto the counter just a few inches from Keith, languidly crossing his legs.

And _damn_ those legs. Lance was lanky, making his limbs obviously longer than the normal person’s, but apparently he had legs for _miles._ They were toned too, making Keith wonder if he actually worked out beyond the constant up and down of four flights of stairs every day. And they were healthily tanned, just a shade paler than bronze and they looked so smooth…

“Something wrong, Keith?”

He glanced up, seeing Lance smirking down at him, watching him not-so-subtly _ogle_ him. Keith swallowed, trying to hide his face behind the smoothie in his hand without being too obvious. It didn’t help that Lance was also wearing a navy, sleeveless muscle shirt. It was tight and his outfit left little to the imagination.

“No. Nothing’s wrong.”

“You sure?” Lance continued smirking, eyes sparkling in mischief. His leg bounced gently, not helping in the slightest to keep Keith from staring.

Keith was too gay for this shit. Someone put him out of his misery.

“Yeah,” he grunted, averting his gaze and sipping at his smoothie. He was obviously _not sure._

“So… good morning, Lance,” Hunk greeted, glancing cautiously over his shoulder. “I see you’re feeling… good today.”

“Yeah, I’m great.” Lance turned his head toward his roommate, smiling around the straw of his drink. “And this smoothie is great, as always.”

“Thanks.” There was a small, metallic _clink_ as Hunk placed the cleaned blender in the dish drain. “Just remember to wash your cup when you’re done. I have to leave soon.”

“Me? Forget? Hunk, you wound me.”

Hunk’s expression turned flat. “Don’t try to act innocent. You forget to do dishes at least twice a week.”

“I do not.”

Hunk rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just wash your cups, I’m gonna go.” He finished drying his hands on a dishtowel, his smoothie gone, and turned to leave the kitchen for the front door. He grabbed his bag from the foyer, hefting it onto his shoulder as he opened the door.

Just before he left, Hunk glanced back. “And remember, we eat on that counter.”

Lance scoffed. “Tell that to Keith. He’s the one that’s thirsty.”

_“Am not!”_

Hunk sighed. “Just… clean up after yourselves.” And then he walked out and closed the door, leaving Keith and Lance alone in the apartment.

It was quiet now, nothing filling the silence but the occasional sip from a straw and Lance’s foot tapping the base of his makeshift chair. Keith still wasn’t looking at him, purposefully staring at the sink across from them, which dripped every now and then. He was more than conscious of Lance’s presence beside him, feeling his gaze sear into the side of his head, imagining that smug smirk pulling at his lips. He was waiting for Keith to say something.

And finally, he did.

He sighed, setting his glass down gingerly onto the countertop. “Why are you wearing that?”

“Wearing what?”

Keith turned toward him sharply. “You know very well what I’m talking about.”

Lance casually took another sip of his smoothie. “Does it bother you?”

“…No.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I wore it a little longer. I live here, and I have the right to feel comfortable in my own home.” By now, Lance had finished his smoothie, slurping at the last remnants as he hopped down from the counter (definitely not drawing attention to the way his shorts rode up a little, nope). “Now come on, Mullet Man. Let’s finish up this presentation so we don’t have to worry about it until later.”

A bit too aggressively, Keith pulled the straw out of his cup and downed the last gulp of his breakfast. “Yeah, good plan.”

Mornings with Lance really were hell.

*             *             *             *             *

Finalizing the project saved Keith from further torture. For the most part. They sat on the floor of the living room again, the coffee table separating them and covering up Lance’s… indecency. Which Keith was grateful for... The cover up, not the indecency, that is. He didn’t at all enjoy seeing all that…

And then Lance got the _wonderful_ idea of stretching his legs out to the side, giving Keith a full view of all that skin...

At this point, he was seriously considering blinding himself with his pencil just so he would stop _staring._

They finally left about an hour before Keith’s shift at the repair shop. Lance had chemistry in half an hour and Keith wanted to go home for a bit and drop his extra clothes off. Possibly attempt to scrub the image of Lance with short shorts from his retinas. With bleach.

But _thankfully,_ before they left, Lance switched his shorts for faded black jeans, alleviating some of Keith’s stress. He kept the muscle shirt, but the jeans were better than nothing, Keith supposed. But still.

“So, Keith,” Lance began, carelessly hopping down the first few steps of the stairway. “You’re not Jewish, are you? Or like, a Jehovah’s Witness or something?”

Keith's eyebrows furrowed. “No. Where are you going with this?”

“Just wondering. Cuz I know some people don’t celebrate holidays and stuff. Which is fine, but if _you_ didn’t, that would be entirely inconvenient.”

“What are you getting at, Lance?”

Lance hooked his hand on the banister of the third floor, swinging back and forth on it with his arm. “You do realize that it’s spoopy time, right?”

Keith groaned, moving to walk passed him. “Don’t start.”

“The Skeleton War is upon us! Who's side are you on?!”

“You’re an embarrassment.”

“Oh, come on, Keith! Don’t you celebrate Halloween?”

“I did when I was nine.”

Lance gasped. “Don’t tell me that was the last time you went trick-or-treating.”

“Why is that such a big deal?”

 _“Keith.”_ Lance hurried to get ahead of him, taking two steps at a time until he could look Keith right in the eye. _“That is such a big deal! Where was your childhood?!”_

Eyeroll. “I technically still had it, dumbass. I just didn’t waste my time dressing up and walking the streets late at night, like a creep, begging for cavities.”

Lance threw a hand to his heart. “That’s it, you have to come over for Halloween. This is a travesty.”

Keith paused, glancing back at him. “You’re inviting me to go trick-or-treating?”

“Well, okay. At first, I was just going to invite you to a Halloween party Hunk and I were thinking about throwing. Just with friends, though, cuz our apartment is _way_ too small for an actual party. But now that I have heard your tragic backstory, I plan to fix that. _So,_ I declare that we have a party _after_ trick-or-treating.”

“Pass.”

“Nope! No. No, no, no, no. You are not backing out of this one, Mullet,” Lance insisted, wagging his finger and sashaying his hips. It was really annoying when he got sassy. “It is mandatory that you come. Besides, it’s not like you’d have plans anyway.”

“Well, what _if_ I had plans?”

“Do you?”

Keith didn’t answer for a minute. “…Who would be there?”

Lance grinned in triumph. “Me and Hunk, obviously. And Shay and Pidge… that’s pretty much it. Trick-or-treating is a lot more fun in small groups.”

“So, we’re just going to walk around asking for candy. And then what?”

“Hang out, eat food. I _would_ say get hammered but Hunk doesn’t want to ‘oppose the law’.” Lance made air quotes with his fingers. “We’ll just have to keep it PG-13.”

Keith rolled his eyes, once again considering if he should back out. But Pidge would be there, so it wouldn’t be _that_ bad of an idea to join. “I’ll think about it.”

“Even if you say you can’t come, I’ll visit your ratty neighborhood and break your door down just to drag you here.”

“You sound so desperate to hang out with me,” Keith commented, foot finally reaching level ground at the bottom of the staircase. “It’s like you’re whipped for me or something.”

“Nah. I’m just really looking forward to seeing you in costume.” Lance strode up beside him, easily matching pace. “So. Maid or nurse outfit?”

“I personally think nurse would fit Keith better.”

The boys paused, looking over to their left at the voice. A man was standing by the entrance, tall with semi-messy black hair. He was slightly muscular, obviously at least part Asian and had a scar across the bridge of his nose. It was definitely unexpected for him to just _show up_ , but neither of them could complain.

Keith couldn’t help the bubble of excitement that bloomed in his chest despite the indignation. “Why would I be a nurse?”

Shiro’s smirk widened, arms crossed over his chest as he met Keith’s gaze. “Well, I figured nurses would get needles to stab with and that’s a perk you wouldn’t pass up.”

Keith smiled. “You got me there.” He didn’t even think about it, just rushed over and gave his brother a hug. Shiro enfolded Keith in his arms, squeezing affectionately before letting go and ruffling his hair. “Hey, Keith. How’s my little brother doing?”

“I am not little,” Keith huffed half-heartedly, hand swatting Shiro’s away.

“You’re little to _me._ ”

“Whatever.”

“Well, you’re not exactly _tall,_ Keith.”

“Shut up, Lance.”

Lance ignored him, walking up to Shiro with a grin on his face. “Hey, Shiro! Long time, no see.”

“Lance.” The two of them grasped each other’s wrists in a brief handshake. “How’s the Sharpshooter of The Garrison?”

As it turned out, Shiro used to go to university with them, but only a year before he graduated with his Master's. He was part of the rifle team, which Lance had also decided to become a part of. The two of them had bonded rather quickly over pumping things full of lead. Keith wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned.

Lance grinned smugly, hands going to rest haughtily on his hips. “Oh, you know. Slayin’. Nailing targets like _pow, pow, pow!_ The usual.”

Keith looked at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What was that sound?”

Lance smirked back. “Laser guns.”

“…What?”

“Give it twenty years and I guarantee you we will all be living through Star Wars.”

“I have to disagree with you, Lance. That’s completely unrealistic. It would take closer to fifty years. And anyway, it would be more like… _Blam! Blam, blam!”_

Keith pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re both dorks.”

Lance leaned toward him smugly. “But you love us.”

“Don’t you have a class to get to?”

“…Oh right.” Lance abruptly turned around, jogging in the direction of the university. “I’ll catch you guys later! Nice seeing you, Shiro!” He was almost out of the parking lot when he shouted again. “Keith, I’ll text you details later! And Shiro’s invited!”

Shiro glanced down at his brother. “What am I invited to?”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Hunk and Lance are going trick-or-treating on Halloween and then having a party.”

“That sounds like a great idea.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. It would be fun.” Shiro smirked at him. “Why? You too old for trick-or-treating?”

“Shiro. You are literally like twenty-six.”

“Oh, _now_ I’m twenty-six?!”

“Only when it’s convenient for me, yes.”

Shiro folded his arms again. “Well fine. And to think I was going to treat you to lunch today.”

“Let’s not be hasty.”

Shiro turned away from him, nose in the air. “I’m waiting for an apology.”

Keith sighed. “Shiro, I’m sorry that you were born on Leap Day and that it has forever ruined your chances to be taken seriously—”

“Try again.”

“I’m sorry for constantly referring to you as a six-year-old. You are a legal adult and are more than capable of making mature, rational decisions, even if it includes going trick-or-treating with a bunch of immature college students and your brother.”

Shiro nodded. “Better. But I think you fit under ‘immature college students’ so, that was a little extra.”

“Are you going to buy me food now or what?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Shiro smiled, turning and leading Keith down the row of cars to a small, silver sedan. “You _are_ free for lunch, right?”

“I don’t have classes until five, but I do start my shift at eleven… How did you know where to find me anyway?”

“Pidge said you’d be here.”

“And you didn’t just call me because?”

“I wanted to surprise you. Is that a crime?”

“You are so extra.”

Shiro bumped his elbow into Keith’s arm teasingly. “You like seeing me and you know it.”

Keith was having a hard time keeping the smile from his face. “Whatever.”

*             *             *             *             *

Shiro gave Keith a ride back to his apartment to get his things. Then they made their way to a Chinese restaurant to get takeout boxes of food that _could_ have been healthier but they didn’t really care. They just wanted food they could take to the park.

Eating at the park together was something Shiro had started back when Keith was still getting used to college life. Shiro was a physical therapist that practiced at a clinic across town, and they saw each other pretty regularly when their schedules permitted. Taking advantage of that, Shiro decided (without Keith’s permission) that having picnics together for lunch was a great idea, and that it would give them a chance to catch up while giving Keith the few hours of outside air he needed to keep from drowning in school work. It had sort of become their thing, and to be honest, it was something Keith looked forward to doing at least once a week, even if Shiro made them sit down for it because “eating standing up gives you indigestion.”

“So, how’s the clinic going?” Keith asked, scooping some lo mein with his chopsticks. They were sitting on a stone picnic table, ignoring the benches and favoring sitting on the tabletop like heathens. “Any better?”

Shiro shrugged, just opening his box. “About the same. Could be better, could be worse.”

“How so?”

“Well, I like working there—by the way, don’t talk with your mouth full—and I love working with the patients, but, you know, the clinic isn’t getting as many as it could.”

Keith made a point to still be chewing as he spoke. “Will you guys be able to stay open?”

Shiro gave him a flat look, and Keith snickered after swallowing. “Well, _for now,_ we are. But beyond that… who knows.”

Keith gave him a small pat on the shoulder. “Sorry, I know you love your job.”

He received a small smile in return, along with an affectionate nudge of the shoulder. “Thanks, Keith. But enough about me, how are you? How’s school life?”

Keith shrugged. “Fine. The usual.”

“Have you decided on a Major yet?”

“…Yeah. Biology.” He absently stabbed his chopsticks into his box.

Shiro nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good one. Pretty safe, applies to a lot of jobs. Plus, you’re smart, it’ll be a breeze.”

Keith didn’t say anything for a minute. He continued picking at his food, staring blankly into the box. “Right.”

“…What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong.”

Shiro hefted a sigh, lowering his takeout box. “Keith, I know you. What’s up?”

Keith shrugged again. “I don’t know. I picked bio because I needed a Major.”

“And it’s not what you hoped it would be?”

“I don’t know. I mean… I don’t even know if it’s what I wanna _do,_ Shiro.”

Keith felt himself shrink, but could also feel the bitter anger snarling in his chest. Everyone around him made it seem like finding their calling was so _easy:_ Shiro was a physical therapist, Hunk wanted to be a mechanical engineer, Pidge was going into computer science and robotics, even _Lance_ had chosen his Major—Forensic Chemistry. Keith was the only one still deciding and it _sucked._ He wished he could just have that _“Aha!”_ moment and feel validated.

And now he was dragging up the angst again. Great.

Shiro was quiet for a minute, thoughtfully staring across the lake. “Well… you’re still young. You have some time to really decide.”

Keith rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth in an attempt to quell the swirling in his chest. “You say that like you’re ancient.”

“If thinking of me that way makes you respect your elders, then fine.”

“But you’re only six.”

Before Keith could register what was happening, he was gripped in a tight headlock, screaming (read yelling) as he came _this close_ to falling off the table and dropping his food.

_“Shiro!”_

“Take that back.” Shiro was grinning dangerously at him, one arm hooked around Keith’s neck, the other pressing against the back of his head. Keith was pretty sure there was still Chinese takeout and chopsticks in his hands.

“See? This is exactly my point. You act like a child,” Keith grunted, smirking as he strained against his brother’s arm.

“I said, take it back.”

“I can’t take it back if it’s true.”

“Oh, you asked for it.” Shiro tightened the pressure, making Keith pull harder against it.

_“Shiro!”_

“I’m sorry, I’m not hearing an apology.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “ _You_ asked for this. Let me put that out there right now.”

Without any further warning, he pulled his elbow forward and thrust it back _hard._ Shiro grunted painfully, grip loosening enough for Keith to break the hold, slipping out from under Shiro’s arm and taking it with him as he crouched on the table. Fully grinning now, he twisted Shiro’s hand, making him whine _“ow!”_

“Who’s regretting what now, _Shiro?”_

_“Is this really necessary?”_

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

Shiro didn’t answer and Keith didn’t press. The next few minutes were instead filled with whines and grunts of pain as the two brothers struggled against each other. Shiro tried to grab at his captor with his free hand, but Keith just snagged his wrist and pinned it against the back of his head, pressing down so Shiro couldn’t stand up. They continued like that for a while, and Keith was so sure he was going to win.

“Ahem.”

The two glanced up in perfect sync. Standing not ten feet away from them was a woman with two children, both boys who were watching curiously. The woman eyed them pointedly, eyebrow raised, hand on her hip.

“Uh, sorry, ma’am,” Shiro said immediately, cuing Keith to release his grip. “My brother and I are just messing around. Didn’t mean to disturb.”

She didn’t answer, just pushed her kids away in the direction of the playground. Keith rolled his eyes, dropping down next to Shiro again and watching her go.

“Bitch.”

“She was just making sure her kids wouldn’t have any bad influences,” Shiro reasoned easily. He winced slightly, rolling his left shoulder, and Keith instantly felt his gut clench.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your shoulder.”

“It’s fine.” His brother easily waved it off, smiling at him as he settled into a comfortable sitting position again. “It’s an old injury. It’s what I get for thinking about playing football professionally.”

Keith scoffed. “Yeah. Like another meathead.”

“You considered it too, _meathead,”_ Shiro countered lightly, nudging Keith by his shoulder.

Like Keith needed to be reminded of that.

“Anyway,” Shiro continued, though he said the next part slowly. “…What are your plans for Thanksgiving?”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed, glancing at him incredulously. “Thanksgiving? It’s not even Halloween yet.”

“I know, but this is what family does. Plan things.”

“But we always do the same thing for holidays every year,” Keith countered, rolling his eyes and picking up his lo mein from behind him. “What’s with the sudden talk about plans.”

“Well…” For some reason, Shiro looked hesitant, picking at his chow mein (like a health nut) and not looking at him. “I know it’s usually just the two of us for holidays but…”

“What?” Keith asked, looking at him curiously. “Did you have something in mind you wanted to do?”

His brother didn’t say anything for a second, still avoiding eye contact and poking his food with his chopsticks. It was almost like he felt guilty. Or…

“Do you have a girlfriend you wanted to bring?”

Shiro froze, chopsticks in the process of needling a hole in the side of the oil-stained takeout box. Then he looked up, black eyes meeting Keith’s sharply, and for a while he just stared at him.

“…Yeah.” Shiro’s shoulders relaxed, but were still hunched a bit. “Actually, I do. And I wanted you to meet her so I was wondering…”

“Shiro. It’s okay if you bring your girlfriend to Thanksgiving dinner,” Keith said, eyeing his brother suspiciously.

Shiro offered a smile. “Thanks. Things are kind of getting serious. At least, I _hope_ it’s heading in that direction. And I just figured it was time she met my family.”

Keith pulled out a clump of noodles from his box. “Well, I mean, if you really wanted to, you could bring her to Lance’s Halloween party. I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind. Pidge would probably want to meet her too, anyway.”

Shiro blinked. “You wouldn’t mind that?”

Keith shrugged. “No. If you’re willing to introduce us, I’m sure she’s special to you. What’s she like?”

“Well,” Shiro started, and suddenly there was a dreamy smile on his face that made Keith roll his eyes. “Her name’s Allura.”

“Interesting name.”

“She’s from England, though I don’t think that name is common there either.”

“Ah, so she has an accent.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, just that I think you have a thing for accents.”

“Don’t judge me.” Keith laughed, making Shiro smile before he continued. “Allura is different anyway. We’ve known each other for a while through work and she’s kind and understanding, but she can be scary when she needs to be. I think you two will get along.”

“Should I be insulted by that or?”

Shiro rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying that you could possibly bond with your headstrong personalities.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“You’ll like her, I promise.” Shiro stood from the table first, empty box and chopsticks in one hand while he checked his watch. “Now, we should leave if you wanna get to work on time. It’s 10:46.”

Keith hopped down after him, starting to walk toward the parking lot with his takeout in hand. “You should stop worrying about me and instead worry about the fact that you’re insanely late for pre-school today.”

“Keith, I swear.”

*             *             *             *             *

The rest of Keith’s day involved working under the hoods of several cars and taking a bunch of night classes. He didn’t mind the first bit as he actually enjoyed working on engines and stuff, but the classes… well there was more to be desired. Most of them had to do with his new major, which he didn’t mind, per se, but it was just… insanely boring. Keith was actually pretty good at school, and he liked admitting it from time to time, but the things he learned never really interested him at all. It’s not that he didn’t _try_ to be interested, he just _couldn’t_ be interested. Hopefully Shiro was right and things would get better.

Between his 6:00 and 8:30 class, Keith had some free time to get dinner before heading back to the torture chamber—uh, school. Since Pidge was a freshman and was required to live on campus, she made it her personal mission to eat dinner with him when she could. And because she was insanely smart and had enough credits to start her major classes, Hunk was there to study for some of the classes they had together.

And because Hunk was there and there was the possibility of free food, Lance showed up too.

“No, Lance. I think you meant: _Bew! Bew! Bew…! Bew!”_

“That sounds like _fireworks.”_

“Well, if any of you have actually _watched_ Star Wars, then you would know it’s more like: _Pa-chew! Pa-chew! Pa-chew!”_

“Ugh!” Keith’s forehead hit the table. “Why am I friends with any of you?! And _why_ are we still talking about this?”

Currently, the four friends were sitting in a pizzeria just off campus. They had claimed a booth, Keith and Pidge on one side and Lance and Hunk on the other. They had just been served their pizzas and Keith was already seriously contemplating just throwing himself out the window.

“Because this is a very important matter, _Keith,”_ Lance answered, folding his arms over his chest from across the table. He was still wearing that muscle shirt. “We are discussing the fate of the galaxy. Don’t take it lightly.”

“To be honest, Lance, I think you and Shiro underestimated by _a lot._ The Star Wars shouldn’t happen for _at least_ another century. Our technology isn’t advanced enough yet.”

“Even though I can’t agree with any of the laser sounds you guys made, I have to agree with Pidge on that.”

“Oh, whatever.” Lance rolled his eyes at his roommate. “You guys have no imagination.”

“That’s debatable,” Hunk hummed, sipping at his soda.

“But seriously, back to the main point!” Lance grabbed a slice of pepperoni pizza and jabbed it at the middle of the table. “What is our theme gonna be for the party?”

“Do we even _need_ a theme?” Keith asked, nursing a glass of water between his hands. “Can’t we just show up?”

“No, no, no. It’s a _Halloween_ party. You can’t just _show up_ to a Halloween party. What are you, a heathen?”

“I’m not _extra_ if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Hey, being extra is how you live to the fullest. Someday you’re gonna wish you got the full life experience.” Keith rolled his eyes and Lance stuck his tongue out before continuing. _“So._ Theme. Any ideas?”

“I thought Disney might be an option,” Hunk offered. “But then if we did it, Keith might puke.”

“Not might, I _would.”_

“Keith is darkness,” Pidge supplied, sitting up with a piece of pizza in her hands. “He hisses at the light because it threatens his fragile constitution. Disney is out.”

Lance scoffed, ignoring the middle finger he got from Keith. “Lame. What else?”

“Uh, superheroes?” Hunk offered.

“Maybe… that’s a bit overdone, but it’s still cool. Let’s save that as a backup.”

“So, you want something different,” Pidge mused. “Like cosplay?”

Lance lit up just as Keith blurted “No.”

“Oh, come on! Why not?”

“I am not dressing up as one of your anime characters.”

“But it would be so _fun.”_

_“I’m not doing it!”_

“Buzzkill.”

“Okay,” Pidge cut in before they could start shouting. They didn’t need to get banned from another decent restaurant. “Cartoons?”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Ben 10, Teen Titans, Avatar—”

“Avatar’s a good one.” Hunk looked thoughtful, talking as he chewed. “But are we talking Airbender or Korra?”

“Definitely Airbender,” Lance said, waving a hand. “LoK was good but let’s face it, ATLA had the better plotline. Though I do give Korra props for being inclusive.”

“You’re just biased because the main character turned out to be bi.”

“Well, _duh._ She’s my people!”

“Don’t you mean she’s _one of your people?”_

“Okay, I don’t need any smart remarks from you,” Lance said, leaning across the table to glare at Keith. “It’s a term. _You_ should know! She’s technically _your_ people too! Us gays have to stick together!”

“You’re technically not gay, you’re bi,” Pidge casually corrected, sipping her water. “Keith is the only gay here.”

Lance gasped dramatically. “Pidge! What happened to gays sticking together?”

“Hey, I’m ace, not gay. Big difference.”

“Okay, fine! We’re all different and Korra is my only person.”

“I’m straight, but she’s my person too. We’re both people of color.”

“Alright, we’re all different but we’re still each other’s people. Because we’re all human.”

“Woo, preach.” Pidge started to clap, and there was a small round of applause at the table. Lance bowed from his seat.

“Thank you, thank you, I’m here all week. I’d like to thank my mom and my amazing friends… and Keith’s ass.”

He winked and Keith rolled his eyes. “Don’t objectify me.”

“I’m not, I’m just thanking your ass for reminding me that I’m not straight.”

“That’s objectifying me.”

Hunk cleared his throat, dragging the conversation back on track. “Okay, so are we all in agreement? Avatar: The Last Airbender will be our Halloween theme?”

“I’m down for that,” Pidge shrugged, taking a bite of her crust. “Toph’s practically my personality twin.”

“I have no idea how to dress for that or where to get a costume.”

“I can ask Shay to cover that,” Hunk offered. “Fashion Majors have connections.”

“Sweet,” Lance began, starting on his _fifth_ piece of pizza. Keith didn’t know how he ate so much while constantly talking. “This party is gonna be lit.”

Keith groaned. “You are literally the most cringe-worthy person I’ve ever met.”

“You love me and you know it.”

“In your dreams.”

“What kind of dreams are we talking about?”

Lance bounced his eyebrows and Keith rolled his eyes, pulling his phone out of his pocket and glancing at the screen. “Well you can dream all you want, call me when you actually _want_ the sex. I have class in twenty minutes so I have to go.”

Pidge and Hunk were silent beside them. Just staring.

“Well if you _have_ to go,” Lance sighed, leaning on the table with his chin in his hand, waving Keith away. “Go ahead, just leave.”

“Okay.” Keith stood, ignoring the way Lance threw a hand to his heart and gasped in offense. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“’Night, Keith.”

“Bye, Keith,” Pidge said, leaning out of the booth to look at him properly. “And don’t forget to tell Shiro and his _girlfriend_ about our theme.”

“Why can’t _you_ just tell him? He’s practically your brother too.”

“Yeah, but which of us would he be more disappointed in for not keeping him in the loop?”

Keith sighed. “Whatever. Fine, I’ll text him. Goodnight.”

He turned to leave, unlocking his phone so he could get the text over with.

“Mm, I hate it when you leave, but I _love_ watching you go.”

Keith froze for half a second, not expecting that but sort of disappointed in himself that he didn’t. He could hear Hunk groan _“Lance”_ and possibly the sound of Pidge rolling her eyes. Keith turned around and was faced with Lance smirking at him from his seat, leaning over on his elbow and bouncing his eyebrows again. Idiot.

Keith almost said something, finger pointing at Lance like he was going to let him have it. But nothing came, and he was just staring awkwardly. It might have had something to do with Lance's goddamn shirt. So, with his lips pressed together into a thin line, Keith turned and left the restaurant.

He swore he could hear Lance laughing all the way from outside.

That jackass was gonna get, just wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Score:  
> Keith - 3  
> Lance - 4
> 
> Sue me, I had to use the laser gun sound effects. It's iconic. And of course, the ATLA cosplay. I would have been crazy not to have them do that. And disclaimer for Lance's Spanish: I don't speak Spanish, I apologize if it's inaccurate. I took Spanish in high school so I proofread as best I could, but I basically used Google Translate. Like true Klance trash.
> 
> And as someone who is asexual, I fully support the fanon theory that Pidge is ace. Sue me for that too.
> 
> Also, my Tumblr is decent now so check me out. I'm fanaticcriminal (because I am an obsessive fan that commits the ultimate crime: taking a sinfully long time to post on any of my fanfics, like, you have no idea). I may be doing stuff on there related to this story, but who knows, I'm still figuring it out. And hey, you can use it as a platform to shame me for being late.


	3. Hands-on Holiday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry this took so long. This is exactly what I warned you about, but I'm back. For now.  
> Since it's the holidays, I have more free time and I'm hoping to get the next chapter out around New Year's, but we'll see. Here's a really long chapter for you though. Honestly, I don't know if I like it, but that might be because I've read over it fifty times. Just be sure to let me know what you guys think, that way I can gauge if I'm on the right track or not.
> 
> Also, I decided to create a separate Tumblr account for my writing/fanfiction. Fanaticcriminal turned out to be the place where I perpetually express how trashy I am, so I figured it would be more organized to make another blog (I did get a message though and that was a great motivator). That way, you can stick to that one for my writing-related content. I'll give updates on my progress and maybe even previews? And, of course, I'll be posting other stuff like other ideas I may have or maybe drabbles I end up writing because of writer's block. I'll need to stalk other writing blogs to see how they do it. Anyway, it's the same as my pen name, just lowercase, so feel free to follow me and/or ask questions. Or yell. It's up to you.

It went without saying that Keith loved his job. He willingly enrolled himself in night classes to have time for it, of _course_ he loved it. But also, he really loved cars, or just anything with an engine that you could ride. And by extension, he also liked his coworkers, which was saying something considering people weren’t exactly his thing. They had similar interests as him, mostly cars, and they were easy to work with because, really, there wasn’t any communication needed. Talking shop was easy and fluid, Keith rarely getting irritated by someone who didn’t understand what he was saying. Really there were no misunderstandings and Keith loved feeling like another one of the guys.

But someone had to fuck it up, didn’t they?

It was an ordinary Tuesday, Keith was on his back under an old Honda, watching black oil drip down into a pan by his head. He was performing a simple oil change when someone walked by the car and tapped his foot with their boot.

“Kogane. When you’re done, you’re free to go. Your boyfriend’s waiting for you.”

Keith’s eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment he continued to stare blankly at the underside of the van. Then, slowly, he rolled himself out until he was staring up at his offender, eyebrows raised. “What?”

Rolo smirked down at him, leaning casually against the rigging holding up the van. “Sorry, let me rephrase that. He said, and I quote: ‘Tell Keith Kogane his knight in shining armor has come to whisk him away into the sunset.’”

Keith sighed heavily, rolling his eyes as he slid back under the car. “Goddammit, Lance.”

“Ah, so that’s Lance.” Rolo chuckled somewhere above, and Keith continued with his job, seeing that the oil had slowed to an occasional drip. “Nyma’s said a lot about that guy. I didn’t realize he was also into guys.”

“Lance isn’t my boyfriend,” Keith grunted, taking a wrench to close off the drip. “He’s just giving me a ride today and is being unnecessarily dramatic.”

“Really. That’s a bit disappointing. I was under the impression that you had finally settled on someone.”

Keith jerked back out from under the Honda, eyes narrowed. “Why exactly do you care? We were together for _one night_.”

The mechanic held his hands up. “I’m just concerned as a friend, man, chill.”

“There’s no reason to be concerned. I’m fine on my own.”

“Concerned was the wrong word for it. More like interested.”

“You shouldn’t be that either.”

There was a slight pause. “…Yeah. No, you’re right. You’re fine on your own.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute. Keith had his jaw clenched, momentarily focused on replacing the gas can above him without spilling anything on his face. Before he could pop it in, he sighed, glancing out from under the van. Rolo was still standing there.

“…Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Rolo answered, and Keith could imagine him shrugging. “But seriously though, your shift ended five minutes ago. And Lance has been waiting for a while.”

Keith scoffed. “Lance is a big boy, he can—”

_“Keeeeiiiith~!”_

Speak of the devil.

_“Keith, come on, babe! We gotta go!”_

Keith was out from under the Honda again, wide eyes cast near the front of the garage. Next to him, Rolo hid a smirk behind his hand.

_“Keith. Sweetheart. Darling. Babycakes. Light of my world. My other half. The sun in my sky. The peanut to my butter—”_

“Not a word,” Keith growled, passing Rolo and a few of his other coworkers. He marched passed several other cars and metal tool boxes, ignoring the smirks and laughs sent his way. The garage was wide open, and just to the left was a very recognizable beige corolla. It was old, from 2003, and was the poorest excuse of a ride Keith had ever come across. It was dinged in the back, and the paint had rusted off on the back-passenger side, but it was treasured a little too much for its “character” to be healthy.

And of course, its owner was leaning against the trunk, grinning widely at Keith as he came out.

“There you are!” Lance exclaimed, smile bright yet mischievous. “Ready to go?”

“What the fuck.”

Lance popped a hip, wagging a finger at him. “Now that is no way to greet the man who came to drive you to school today. Where’re your manners?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” Keith growled, arms crossed over his chest. He was sort of glad Lance was doing this at the auto shop. It meant that Keith was dressed in his uniform and felt confidently intimidating.

 _“Oooohh,_ you mean the nicknames.” Lance fully smirked, bouncing an eyebrow at him. “Why? Did they embarrass you? Are you flustered?”

“That was harassment and I am at my place of work. We’re not even dating, and also, it makes me seem less professional.”

“Psh, I call BS. Well, we have to go anyway, _sweetie._ We have class soon.”

Keith grit his teeth. “Give me five minutes, _honey.”_

Lance winked. “Sure thing, baby, no rush.”

Without another word, Keith turned on his heel and stalked back inside. He would deny that Lance had actually gotten a point from that, but he knew for a fact that Lance was going to count it whether he protested or not.

As Keith headed for the breakroom, he passed Rolo again, who was smirking minutely at him. “Not your boyfriend, huh?”

“I said not a word,” he snapped, just before slamming the door behind him.

In a matter of minutes, Keith had changed out of his coveralls and was trudging back out with his bag slung over his shoulder. He ignored all of his coworkers and promptly threw himself into Lance’s car. Lance himself was already in the driver’s seat, grinning as Keith violently buckled his seatbelt.

“Hey there, babe, how was work?”

“Enough with the pet names!”

“Seriously, man. It’s weirding me out.”

Keith had forgotten Hunk was also going to be in the car today.

“But look at that blush. If it gets me points, then it’s worth it.”

“Just shut up and drive, you idiot.”

“No need to be grouchy, Mullet. Do you want a ride or not?” Still smiling coyly, Lance turned the ignition, the car sputtering to life as he shifted it in gear.

Keith crossed his arms. “I technically don’t need a ride, I can walk to school just fine.”

“Yes, but you agreed to come get Halloween costumes with us,” Lance stated pointedly, pulling seamlessly out of the parking lot.

Hunk leaned forward a bit from the backseat. “Plus, this is the only time Shay isn’t busy.”

There was a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I get that. Still could have done without the pet names though.”

“Aw, Keith’s just embarrassed,” Lance cooed, pulling into mid-afternoon traffic.

Keith clicked his tongue. “I was not.”

“Right, right…” There was a slight pause, one in which Keith refused to look anyone in the eye and instead silently contemplated the cars moving outside. Literally throwing himself under that bus over there didn’t sound half bad.

“Hey,” Lance said suddenly, sounding a bit distracted as he shuffled something in his hands. “Can you hold this for me?”

He held his fist out immediately to his right. With a huff, Keith rolled his eyes and offered his hand, palm up. Lance put his hand in his, and without much preamble, threaded their fingers together between them.

Brows furrowing, Keith glanced at their entwined hands, then over at Lance dubiously. He smirked. “Strike two, Keithy-boy.”

Like hell it was.

Before he could convince himself it was a bad idea, Keith pulled their hands over to his side, and smoothly brought the back of Lance’s hand to his lips.

The car swerved immediately.

 _“LANCE, WATCH THE ROAD!”_ Hunk screamed, gripping the headrests like Death had appeared to him (which was probably more than accurate). Lance let out a sound between a scream and a squeal, frantically snatching his hand back to correct the wheel so that the car jerked back into their lane. Several cars honked behind them, and Keith swore he could hear tires screeching. Someone shouted at them to “watch the fucking road” and that they were an “endangerment to their species.”

Normally, Keith would have said something similar, but he turned to the driver’s seat in surprise, studying Lance’s side profile carefully. He could see a red tinge to his cheeks.

“So. The almighty Lance McClain can get flustered too.”

“Shut up. I just wasn’t expecting it,” Lance grumbled, though he didn’t dare look away from the road. Or at Keith’s face.

Keith just stared. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t be caught dead kissing anybody’s hand, let alone _Lance’s_ , even if someone paid him. But there was no way in hell he was getting anymore behind in their little “flirting contest” and there was no way he was just going to let Lance have that one—the cliché “hold this for me” pick-up line that Keith _knew_ he should have seen coming. And anyway, it was sort of worth it to experience lover-boy Lance losing his cool.

With that thought, Keith sat smugly in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

*             *             *             *             *

The drive to Shay’s continued mostly in silence. Keith was particularly proud of that part, smug that he had finally gotten the upper hand in his and Lance’s little game. Though, towards the end, his mind drifted back to Hunk, who he sort of felt sorry for. Hunk had been forced to sit there, witness their shenanigans, and almost get in a car wreck in the process. Poor guy must have had a heart attack.

As it turned out, Shay lived about a block away from Lance and Hunk in a similar apartment complex, only she was on the second floor. Her place was just as nice as theirs though, leaving Keith somewhat salty on principle, but he got over it as soon as they parked. Lance practically launched out of the car first, going to stand on the sidewalk and wait so he could remotely lock the car.

As soon as Keith and Hunk were out, the corolla chirped brightly, and Lance was speeding toward the building with his hands and keys shoved in his pockets. The two remaining boys glanced at each other before following suit.

Keith had only met Shay on occasion beforehand, so he wouldn’t say he knew her very well, but he did know her. They had actually had class together Freshman year—an early world history class. Keith remembered she had been nice to him, being polite in small talk and always smiling at him. Of course, back then, he was going through his “I hate everything” phase, so he wasn’t the nicest of people and actively avoided conversation. But he remembered how amiable she was, even when he shoved himself in a corner. She was one of the good ones in his book. He could tell why Hunk liked her so much.

When they got to Shay’s door, Lance stood aside so Hunk could knock. There was the distant shout of someone saying “coming!”, and not ten seconds later the lock clicked, and the wooden door swung open.

“Hey, guys! Glad you could make it.” Shay's dark hair swished in its short bob as she came to stand in the doorframe. Her bright green eyes sparkled as she looked them over, her gaze finally fixing on Hunk.

Hunk immediately smiled. “Of course, Shay. We promised.”

The two went for a hug, and Keith was struck by how right they looked. They were a new couple, he was aware, so public displays of affection were probably awkward for them. But that didn’t cover up the fact that they just sort of… fit.

When they pulled apart, they were still smiling, though their twin blushes were hard to ignore. Not to mention they were having trouble maintaining eye contact.

“Yeah, Shay. You think we’re the kind of people to go back on our word? Who do you take us for?”

Shay turned to Lance, still smiling. “Well, life happens. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but you never know, honestly.”

Lance nodded. “True, I can’t argue with that.”

Shay took that moment to give Keith a smile, which he returned, before stepping inside, beckoning the three boys to follow her. “Well, come in. I know you guys have class later.”

Just before moving out of the chilly October air, Lance looked at Hunk with a sly grin. “Just a hug? Thought I taught you better than that.”

Hunk turned to him with a taut smile. “Shut up, Lance.”

Shay’s apartment fit her perfectly. It was smaller than Lance and Hunk’s, but cozy and welcoming. At least in the common area. Everything was clean and organized and perfect for a cover of “Ideal Home” magazine. Though, as they passed the hallway, Keith caught a glimpse of a room with at least three racks of fabric through the doorway.

“So, I have all of your costumes as requested, but I want to make sure they fit before you take them. I can make quick fixes too, if you need them, and they shouldn’t take more than ten minutes.”

“Thanks so much, Shay,” Hunk said, smiling at her as they all came to stand in the living room. “You’re doing a lot for us.”

“Not at all! I love doing things like this. It gives me some much-needed practice. Now, we can start fittings, that way you can all tell me if I need to make adjustments. And Keith—” she turned to him “—I know you just got off work. You’re free to use the shower if you want to. I know you’d probably be using this time to go home for that, usually. I can give you your costume so you can try it on after.”

Keith nodded. “Thanks, I’ll do that.”

“Good idea,” Lance added, lounging sideways across a lazy chair. “Keith smells like motor oil.”

“Well maybe you should join me, you smell like narcissism,” Keith shot back, glancing at Lance who actually mustered the energy to look offended. It made Keith smirk, and he walked down the hallway without another word.

His shower barely took five minutes. He was usually quick with showering anyway, but Keith didn’t want to linger too long in someone else’s bathroom, even if that someone had been kind enough to insist he use it. He was quick to soap himself down, glad he could get rid of the stench of oil and grime before class. He made sure to scrub through his hair too, despite having to use shampoo that was more flowery than he was used to. But he was able to get the job done and left the shower in record time.

Once dry, he put on the costume Shay had given him. Since he had no say in who he was going to be dressed as, he had no idea what he was in for. Well, okay scratch that, the red made it pretty obvious. Honestly though, he wasn’t disappointed. He would have gone with Fire Nation anyway.

The costume was loose and breathable, which was nice as long as it wouldn’t be too cold on Halloween. It was actually pretty comfortable too, which was a perk of getting a costume from a fashion designer instead of Party City. Keith had to admit he didn’t hate this.

Decently satisfied, he left the bathroom to rejoin the party.

The first thing he noticed was that there was a lot of blue.

“Shay, really, this is great!”

Lance was currently posing in the middle of the living room, doing what could have been a warrior pose, but Keith didn’t know much about yoga. Lance stood straight for a second, looking down at his costume with a grin. Shay was standing nearby, eyeing him critically.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “Because I could bring in the shoulders a little bit.”

“Nah, that’s alright,” Lance answered, flexing his arm. “I need room for my muscles.”

Keith didn’t bother trying not to laugh. Lance turned back to stick his tongue at him.

“To be honest, Shay,” Hunk said, leaning on the counter in the kitchen, “Lance is a busybody. You need to leave him some room or else he’ll rip the costume.”

“I think it’s great like this anyway,” Lance added, grinning at her and striking another pose. “The only thing I need now is a boomerang.”

“Sorry, I can’t cover that,” Shay said, laughing a little. “You’d have to ask someone in the drama department. They might have props. Oh, and Keith, your boots are over here.” She walked over to the end of the couch, grabbing black, pointed boots with a yellow stripe down the front and offering them to him. He took them with a “thanks” while she briefly looked him over.

“It looks like it fits well. Oh, but I forgot the belt. Give me a second.” She moved passed him toward the hallway, leaving Keith to sit down on the couch and pull on his shoes.

“So, who am I supposed to be again?”

“Uh, _Zuko:_ Prince of the Fire Nation, Heir to the Throne, Hothead Extraordinaire.” Lance leaned over him, hands on hips as he raised an eyebrow dubiously. “How do you not know that. Please tell me you actually _watched_ some of Avatar.”

“Well, yeah. Pidge and I used to watch it when we were younger. Never did finish it though.”

Lance gasped. “How _dare you?!_ You _have_ to finish it, that’s sacrilege!”

“I’m sorry that there were more important things going on,” Keith returned, rolling his eyes.

“Oh yeah? Like what? We were, like, ten when the show finished!”

Keith just shrugged. It was Lance’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Unbelievable. Do you at least know who _I’m_ supposed to be?”

“Uh… the non-bender guy. Sokka?”

Lance sighed, resting a hand on top of Keith’s head. “There’s hope for you yet, my young Padawan.”

Keith knocked his arm against Lance’s, brushing it away roughly. “What about you, Hunk?”

He turned to look at their friend who was standing quietly in the kitchen. He was surprisingly wearing a lot of blue, but if Keith thought about it, it was fitting.

“Shay and I are going as a pair. We’ll be Hakoda and Kya. Which is fitting because that means Lance is our son and I feel like I’m his second mom anyway.”

“Yeah, no, he needs the extra supervision. I agree.”

“Excuse you, I’m perfectly capable of supervising myself.”

Hunk and Keith both raised their eyebrows at him.

“I don’t appreciate the attitude.”

Shay returned from her room, a yellow strip of cloth dangling from her hand. “Sorry, it was lost with some of my other projects. Do you know how to tie it?”

Keith took it with a nod. “Yeah, I think I got it.”

She smiled warmly. “Great. Do you like it? Anything too loose or too tight?”

Keith shook his head, easily tying the belt securely around his waist. “It fits fine. Thanks for doing this, Shay.”

“No problem! Well, if you guys are good, I think we’re done. And you can keep the costumes if you want, but if not, I can take them back. Just dry clean them first.”

Lance stared at her, wide-eyed. “Are you serious? You’ll let us keep these? That is so awesome, thanks!”

“Well, I made them for you guys.”

It was Keith’s turn to stare. “Wait, you mean you _made_ these? All from scratch?”

“Well, no, that would have taken too long,” Shay explained, looking to the side bashfully. “I just tweaked costumes that looked similar.”

“It’s still impressive.” Hunk moved from the kitchen, joining them to put an arm around Shay. “Really, thanks. You’re great.”

Shay’s cheeks colored a bit, but she looked pleased. Hunk looked a bit embarrassed too, but he smiled briefly before looking at the others.

“Now we should probably head to campus. You guys have class in fifteen minutes.”

“Okay, mom,” Lance said, turning to head down the hall. “Come on, Keith. It’s been a long time since my mamá spanked me and I do not want to continue that ritual.”

Keith had to seize the opportunity. “Don’t lie.”

Lance chokedand Keith wondered if he had finally succeeded in choking on air. But then he started laughing, head thrown back, his entire body moving with the sound. Keith was disappointed that he hadn’t succeeded in flustering Lance this time, but he had to admit, making someone laugh like that wasn’t often on his list of achievements. It wasn’t a point, but it was a personal win.

*             *             *             *             *

Five minutes later, the three of them had said their goodbyes to Shay and were locking themselves in Lance’s car for the ride to school. Hunk once again took the back, leaving Keith to sit up front with Lance.

“Okay, we have ten minutes to get to class and it takes ten minutes to get there from here… following the speed limit.”

“I would prefer we _not_ get pulled over. Remember I’m helping with tutoring this week to boost my grade and being late wouldn’t score me any bonus points.”

“Don’t worry, buddy,” Lance assured, the engine turning over as he kicked the car in gear. “Ya Boi Lance can get you there before you can say ‘traffic violation.’ But first—”

Next thing Keith knew, Lance was taking his hand again, practically holding it hostage over the console between them.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “What are you doing?”

The car was already backing out of the parking space, but Lance was smirking at him. “What? Can’t handle a little hand-holding? Does it fluster you?”

Hunk groaned. “Why are you two like this?”

Keith scoffed. “Obviously not.”

“First one to feel awkward and pull away concedes a point.”

“Prepare to lose, McClain.”

From the back, Hunk braced himself against his seat, hands folded. “Just please don’t crash. I don’t wanna die today.”

*             *             *             *             *

Lance almost wrecked the car. Twice. Keith attributed it mostly to the fact that he only had one hand on the wheel. But to be fair, he was also constantly speeding about ten miles over the speed limit _at the least_. He didn’t actually crash though, so Keith had to give him credit for that. And he would actually allow his pride to give Lance credit for something because it didn’t transfer to points. They were still holding hands so, really, nothing else mattered.

As soon as they lurched into their parking spot, Hunk scrabbled to open his car door, face green.

“Lance, I swear I will _never_ let you drive me anywhere _ever again…_ Oh God, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“But you’re not dead,” Lance pointed out, glancing at the back seat with a grin. “That was your only condition besides being on time. _And_ we’re three minutes early.”

“Yes, but _was it worth it?!_ Was it really worth it, Lance? Tell me that!”

From his seat, Keith shrugged, and proceeded to make a list of pros. “We’re not dead, we’re on time… Works for me.”

“You two were made for each other, I swear.”

“Keith is just being reasonable. For once.”

“You know what?” Hunk sounded exhausted as he hauled himself out of the car. “You two think whatever you want—I’m leaving now.”

“We’re right behind you… as soon as Keith lets go.”

Keith turned in his seat, eyes immediately locking with Lance’s. He was sending him a challenging grin, one Keith met readily.

“But I’m perfectly comfortable right where I am. Why would I want to let go?”

Lance raised an eyebrow, but leaned forward, grin widening minutely. “You know what? You’re right. I actually like holding your hand. Seems like a perfect fit.”

“Match made in heaven.”

“Guys, you’ll be late for class.”

“Hmm, that’s true,” Lance sighed, but he didn’t dare break eye contact. “But I think it’s worth it if I can sit here with Keith for a little longer. Who cares about grades when you can hold hands with _this_ boy?”

“I sure don’t.” Keith kicked it up a notch, letting his thumb rub circles into the back of Lance’s hand. “I love your skin. I could sit here feeling it for hours.”

Lance hummed, still smiling. “Hmm, how much skin we talkin’?”

“Is that an invitation?”

“If you want it to be.”

Hunk began the grueling but worthwhile process of slowly beating himself to death on the frame of Lance’s car. “Never mind. Dying today would be nice.”

It was a moment before Hunk groaned again, ducking to look inside the car. “Look, obviously neither of you are flustered by this. Just call a truce.”

The two boys stared at each other, still smiling dangerously.

“If you’re going to do this, I’m just going to leave.”

Hunk removed his torso from the car and slammed the door, leaving Lance and Keith still locked in a deathmatch of aggressive handholding.

“…He has a point.”

Keith continued glaring, eyes narrowing. “Let go on three.”

Lance nodded, and for some reason their posture tensed, their shoulders hunching and grips tightening.

Keith clenched his jaw. “One… two… three.”

It was a process, but painfully, slowly, they both let go. Halleluiah.

Moments later, they were both out of the car, bags slung over their shoulders.

“I have to admit, I’m impressed, Mullet Man. Well done.”

“Same to you. You didn’t swerve into oncoming traffic.”

“Psh, of course not. I’m the best driver in this city.”

“Subpar, at best.”

“You don’t even have a car, shut up.”

Keith had tugged his phone out mindlessly and checked the time. “So we literally have one minute to run up to the third floor.”

He glanced up, only to find Lance grinning slyly. “Race ya.”

And then he took off, feet pounding on the concrete. Normally, Keith would have been annoyed at the utter lack of sportsmanship, but he merely rolled his eyes and chased after him. Lance never could beat him in a race, head start or not.

*             *             *             *             *

Halloween came faster than Keith was expecting. Would he admit he was a little excited for it? No. But he would also deny that he left his apartment a little early that night.

He got to Lance and Hunk’s before sundown, carrying a bag with his costume in it. There was no way he was going to just walk around in it, he’d look stupid. But of course, as soon as he arrived, Lance called him out on it.

“Keith! Why aren’t you wearing your costume? You need to get in the spoopy mood, man.”

And of course, Lance was already in _his_ costume. Keith had to admit he made a good Sokka, though his hair was too short to put up in the wolf-tail. He was standing in the doorway, one hand on his hip as he greeted Keith.

Lance was given a blank stare. “I didn’t want to get it dirty.”

“I call bull, but fine, whatever. Now get in here. I have to do your makeup.”

Keith blinked. “Makeup?”

“ _Yes._ Zuko has a scar, duh. Now get in here.”

Lance proceeded to grab Keith by the arm, hand gripped in his jacket sleeve as he dragged him inside. He had obviously been decorating before Keith arrived. Orange and black streamers hung around the room, along with some matching balloons strewn on the floor. Paper plates (also orange) were set on the kitchen counter, along with some bowls of party snacks and red solo cups. The tv was on, playing some Shakira song to an empty room.

“Where is everybody?”

Lance dragged him through the living room and down the hall. “Hunk had to go pick up drinks so he’s going to bring Pidge and Shay. And Mr. and Mrs. Shiro are obviously not here yet.”

Keith blanched. “Please don’t call them that.”

They arrived at a room just past the bathroom, the door open to reveal what could only be Lance’s room. The walls were white, but Keith figured that was only because there was a policy against permanently altering the apartment. Otherwise, he was sure it would be some shade of blue, but Lance seemed to make up for it with the large poster of a beach front on the wall, a view shown through palm trees at white sand and crystal blue water. Surrounding it were scattered pictures of Lance’s family, which was obviously far larger than Keith’s, everyone widely ranging in ages. And of course, there was a bi pride flag above his bed.

“Get changed and sit down,” Lance instructed, finally letting go. “I’ll be right back.”

He left, leaving Keith to stare around at all the memorabilia. They made the room feel lived in and so obviously _Lance._ It was a lot different from Keith’s apartment, which was pretty much still as bare as it was when he first started renting it.

Still drinking everything in, Keith began to change clothes.

By the time Lance got back, Keith was just slipping on his top, which was sort of like a robe but not. He wasn’t sure what to call it.

“Okay, good enough. Sit.”

“Well since you asked so nicely.” Rolling his eyes a bit, Keith did as he was told, following Lance to his bed. Keith sat towards the middle, crossing his legs on the navy sheets, and Lance mirrored him, his knee touching Keith’s hip and vice versa. He had a small, beige bag in his lap, which was open to reveal a bunch of stuff Keith could only describe as “makeup” because he had no idea what he was looking at.

“Since when did you know how to do makeup?” he asked, watching as Lance pulled out some things.

Lance shrugged. “I picked up some things from drama club.”

“So does that mean you’re going to actually be able to pull this off and _not_ ruin my face?”

“Keith, please, you insult me. Besides, there’s really nothing to ruin.”

“I thought were in a flirting contest, not a tell-hurtful-lies challenge.”

“Fine then. Your face is too pretty for me to ruin, babe. Even if I tried.” Lance leaned forward, smirking and giving a little wink. Keith just rolled his eyes.

“That’s not how flirting works.”

Lance had gone back to rummaging through his bag. “And _you_ would know.”

_“Yes. I would.”_

“Okay, so, this is going to take a long time. Try not to move too much.”

Keith grunted, hands folded in his lap. “Fine, whatever… wait, are you looking up a makeup tutorial?”

Lance briefly paused in scrolling through his phone. “No?”

“Ugh. Just please don’t make me look terrible.”

“Re _lax._ You’re in the hands of a bona fide makeup guru here. You’ll look more like Zuko than Zuko when I’m through with you… Now hold still.”

Lance squeezed some tubes of stuff and began smearing them on Keith’s wrist. When he found one he apparently liked, he began applying it to Keith’s face. This kind of contact wasn’t something Keith usually went for, but he tried to endure it just to get it over with.

“Wait, why are you putting makeup on my whole face if you’re just doing the eye?”

“Because this is like painting: I need a canvas for my art.” Lance seemed to almost be hyper focusing, eyes narrowed slightly, teeth chewing at his lip. It would have been cute if it wasn’t Lance.

“Why can’t my _face_ just be the canvas.”

“Look, it just can’t, okay? And honestly, this would go a lot faster if you didn’t ask questions.”

“Fine, I get it… wait, is that a glue stick?!”

Lance gave him a look, both eyebrows raised. “Keith. Shut up.”

*             *             *             *             *

They weren’t done by the time Hunk got back with Pidge and Shay, which left the three of them to finish decorating while Lance finished with Keith’s face. By the time he deemed his “art” presentable, Keith’s legs were starting to hurt from staying in the same position too long and Lance had makeup all over his hands and arm. He had needed to test some of the colors to see which ones would actually work, resulting in multicolor stripes all along the inside of his forearm. But finally, _finally,_ he let Keith go.

Keith used the opportunity to stretch out on Lance’s bed, groaning as his legs could finally lay straight, his head hitting the pillow. Lance did the same, but he turned so that he stretched out off he bed, heels on the floor, toes pointed out. He made to brace himself from behind with his hands, but paused, remembering he had makeup all over them, and instead laid back, back resting on Keith's shin.

“You are a lot of work, Mullet. My hand started to cramp near the end.”

“You’re the one that wanted to do it.”

Lance waved a hand carelessly through the air. “Hey, I’m not the one that dressed up as Zuko.”

“I didn’t even choose my costume!” Keith snapped, but then paused thoughtfully. “Whose idea was it for me to be Zuko anyway?”

“Mine, duh.”

Keith sat up on his elbows, leveling Lance with a glare. “Then what the fuck?”

Lance was suddenly getting up. “Well, I’m going to wash this off since you used all my makeup wipes. You go out and socialize for once, ‘kay?” He left the room in seconds with his makeup bag, leaving Keith to roll his eyes and properly sit up. He simply stood for a moment, stretching his arms out and letting his back crack before heading out.

Shay was the first one to see him walk into the room.

“Hi, Keith,” she said, smiling at him as he came in. “That’s a nice scar. Did Lance do that?”

“Yep,” he sighed. “He insisted.”

And then Pidge was walking up to him, wearing what was probably the best Toph cosplay he’d ever seen (...well it was the _only_ Toph cosplay he’d ever seen, but still, it was good). She even had grey contacts in. It was a bit unnerving when she stared at him.

“Your Zuko costume’s pretty good, but your scar is on the wrong side.”

Lance immediately shouted from the bathroom. “The scar’s _not_ on the wrong side!”

Hunk started snickering from the kitchen and Shay hid a smile behind her hand. Keith just blinked down at Pidge.

“ _Is it_ on the wrong side?”

She patted him sympathetically on the shoulder. “You need to really finish the series.”

“You know I’m probably never going to do that.”

“And that’s what’s sad… So, when are Shiro and his girlfriend getting here?”

Keith shrugged. “He said 7:30 but he’s obviously late. What about Matt?”

Pidge mirrored his shrug, giving a sad half-smile. “He’s still in San Francisco interviewing for that job. Not much he could do about it.”

It was Keith’s turn to give a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she sighed, not sounding entirely “okay” but Keith wasn’t going to push it. “He said he would visit after he got back.”

And, of course, that was when someone finally knocked on the door.

“I got it,” Hunk said, closing the fridge to head to the door. Upon opening it, it revealed two people. One was Shiro, who was obviously dressed as Aang with the clothes and the arrow painted on his forehead. But his hair sort of ruined it and Keith would definitely give him grief for that. And next to him was a woman cosplaying as Katara.

By Keith’s gay standards, she was very pretty. She was dark-skinned and had long, brown hair that almost reached her waist. She was dressed in all blue, smiling somewhat nervously with her arm looped through Shiro’s.

Hunk smiled at seeing them. “Hey, Shiro. Glad you could make it. And you must be Allura? Nice to meet you. My name’s Hunk.”

He held out his hand and Allura took it with her own smile. “Hello, Hunk. It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“About time you got here,” Pidge said, coming to stand next to Hunk with her arms crossed. “Being late is so unprofessional, Shiro. I’m disappointed in you.”

Keith followed her. “Yeah, we were hoping you were dead… I mean we were worried you were dead.”

Shiro sighed. “It’s good to see you all too. Anyway, this is Allura. Please don’t be rude and scare her away.”

Hunk scoffed. “Us? Rude? We would never.”

Allura laughed. “I wouldn’t think so. You seem like very nice people. And I heard a bit about you on the ride here.”

“Shiro said good things, I hope,” Pidge said, looking at him pointedly.

Shiro shrugged. “I said nicer things than Matt, anyway.”

Pidge’s eyebrows furrowed. “Matt?”

And then Shiro and Allura separated just enough for someone to walk through them.

Matt smiled down at his sister. “Hey, Katie.”

For some reason, Matt was also dressed as Aang, but he had a bald cap and a better costume, so Keith had to give him points for that.

Pidge’s face lit up and she grinned from ear to ear. “Matt!” she shouted, rushing to hug him tightly around the neck. He quickly returned the embrace, arms wrapping around her as he laughed. “What? How—How are you _here?_ I thought you had an interview!”

“I did. Just earlier than I told you. Why else do you think Shiro would be late? He was getting me from the airport.”

Pidge pulled away to punch his shoulder, but she was still smiling. “You asshole, you lied to me.”

Shiro sighed. “Pidge, language please.”

“Yeah, Pidge watch your fucking language.”

“Matt!”

The Holt siblings grinned at each other. It made Keith smile.

“Matt’s here?” Lance had emerged from the bathroom, speeding over to them with a grin. “Yes! The whole team’s here. Lit levels just went up!”

Keith rolled his eyes. “How about you don’t.”

“You know it’s only going to get worse,” Pidge sighed, nudging him. “The meme team has been reunited.”

Lance and Matt shot finger guns at each other. Keith fully expected to cringe himself to death by the end of the night.

“Alright, well we’re all here,” Shiro said, gaining everyone’s attention. “Now where exactly were we going to trick-or-treat.”

*             *             *             *             *

Lance and Hunk ended up taking them around the apartment complex. Keith hadn’t even known that that was a thing people did, but it got them some candy, so he really couldn’t complain. Of course, because they were obviously not kids, some people didn’t give them a lot, but others greatly appreciated their costumes and felt generous, so it was a mixed reaction.

Going through the building didn’t even take an hour, so they all went back to the apartment to commence “the party phase,” quoting Lance.

Turns out, hanging out in the apartment wasn’t as awkward as Keith was expecting it to be. It involved mostly just sitting around the living room, eating and hanging out as casually as friends were supposed to. Keith had managed to snag a seat on the couch, Shiro sitting in the middle next to him with Allura on the other end. Lance was at the end of the coffee table closest to him, lounging on his back with his legs stretched out, propping himself on his elbows near a bowl of popcorn. Hunk and Shay were next to each other at the other end, shoulders touching with hands entwined and resting on Hunk’s knee. Behind them, Matt and Pidge had managed to squeeze next to each other in the lazy-chair, neither wanting to give it up, but they seemed pretty comfortable sitting so close together.

“I try not to go anywhere with Lance,” Pidge was saying, smirking at him. “He hits on everything with two legs, so it gets kind of tiring.”

“Plus, he has no game,” Keith added, setting his soda on the end table next to him. “So it’s just sad.”

“I _so_ have game!” Lance protested, sitting up to glare at him. “You know what they called me during high school? ‘The Tailor’ because—”

“Because of how you _thread the needle._ Yeah, I’ve heard that too many times,” Hunk cut in, sighing exasperatedly. “It made no sense, why was that a thing?”

“Well you had to see me _thread the needle_ to get it.”

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” It was then that Lance turned to Keith, a smirk playing across his lips. “I guess I could give a demonstration. How about it, Keith? You want me to thread _your_ needle?”

Pidge groaned loudly and Hunk sighed “please don’t.” Shiro choked on his drink. Matt snickered. Allura and Shay just watched, looking somewhat intrigued but also slightly horrified.

For a moment, Keith just stared, blinking as Lance continued with that cocky grin. Then, after a moment, Keith shrugged, sitting back coolly with his arms across his chest. “If you feel like you have to prove yourself, go ahead. It shouldn’t be that hard anyway, your thread’s probably really small.”

Pidge and Matt broke out into roaring laughter while Hunk hissed _“ohhh!”._ Lance looked like Keith had shot him through the heart. And then stabbed it.

 _“Rude!_ You haven’t even _seen_ my thread yet!”

“I don’t imagine there’d be much to see, to be honest.”

_“KEITH!”_

_“SO._ Matt!” Hunk interrupted loudly. “Why are you and Shiro both dressed as Aang?”

Somewhat reluctantly, Matt put his focus on Hunk, his amusement very plain on his face. “Well, Shiro told me he was coming as Aang, so naturally I wanted to outdo him.”

“Well, you succeeded,” Allura said, laughing a bit. “The Holts seem very passionate about dressing up. I’m impressed.”

Shiro turned to her, carrying his scandalized expression over to her. “You’re not impressed with _my_ costume?”

“Of course I am,” she laughed, grabbing onto his arm and patting it good-naturedly. “But you have to admit they put in more effort. You’re not even bald.”

“So, have you watched the show?” Shay asked curiously.

“Yep,” Shiro answered, crossing his arms like he was offended, but he didn’t lean away from Allura. “When she heard that Avatar was the theme, she dragged me all over town looking for that wig.”

Pidge blinked. “Wait, that’s a wig?”

Allura nodded. “Normally it would be a shade like this, but I dye my hair.”

“What color?”

“Well, I could show you.” Reaching up, she pushed back the wig, revealing silvery hair tied back.

Shay’s eyes practically sparkled. “That’s such a pretty color!”

“Thank you,” Allura replied, smiling as she fixed her wig back. “It’s a bit of work to maintain.”

And suddenly there was screaming.

 _“THIS SONG!”_ Matt sprang from his chair, eyes lit like sparklers. “We need to dance. We’re dancing.”

He grabbed Pidge’s hand.

“Matt, I don’t— _Matt!”_

“A dance does sound nice. We’ve been sitting around for a while. Shiro?”

Shiro looked at her skeptically. “You know I don’t dance.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun.” Still holding his arm, she stood, effectively dragging him out of the chair. Shiro didn’t seem to mind once he was standing.

Hunk looked at Shay, holding out his hand. “May I have this dance, milady?”

She giggled. “Of course, sir, you may.”

Keith merely watched, mostly amused by Shiro and Pidge. He had to admit, Allura was getting in his good graces. Not many people made his brother smile like that.

He watched the pair for a little bit, seeing how comfortable they were together… and suddenly Lance was standing over him, mischievous grin set firmly in place.

Keith took one look at him and pointed a finger at Lance's chest. “No.”

Of course, Lance grabbed his hand. “Come _on,_ Keith, we’re being left out. And I wanna dance but this song is better with two people.”

“I don’t dance, Lance.”

Lance groaned, tugging gently. “It is _not_ that hard, I promise. Just follow my lead.”

“No.”

There was a pause. Lance let go of his hand.

“Fine then.”

And then he proceeded to bend down and pull Keith by the ankles.

Keith's butt hit the floor, shaking the apartment and sending a hollow _boom_ to the room below them. If the neighbors came up here, it was _definitely_ not his fault.

“ _Fuck—Lance!”_

“What are you so afraid of? It’s just a dance.” Lance was leaning over him, holding out a hand coyly. “Or are you just intimidated by my skills? Maybe I’ll woo you with my dance moves and win our contest.”

Keith glared up at him, gritting his teeth. “I’ll dance.”

“Mm-hmm.” Lance was still smirking as Keith took his hand, pulling him to his feet. Keith really wished he’d stop looking so damn cocky all the time.

As soon as Keith was on his feet, Lance grabbed both of his hands and lunged, pushing and pulling so their bodies twisted. Keith sort of just stood there, staring at him, face completely deadpan.

“Keith, you look like you wanna murder me.”

“Gosh, you know me so well.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “Just loosen up. Move your feet.”

Still glaring, Keith lifted his foot and stomped once.

“Haha,” came the dry response, but Keith smirked to himself.

And then Lance had to grab him by the waist and twirl.

Keith felt himself lift off the ground and his heart leaped into his throat. Instinctively, he grabbed onto Lance’s shoulders, gripping tightly as they spun around, body tensed. Lance laughed in his ear, sounding light and carefree just before setting him down, hands still on his waist.

“See what you did? You forced me to take drastic measures.” Lance was grinning down at him, and for a moment, Keith couldn’t speak.

Lance’s smile turned into a smirk. “What? I left you speechless?”

“…Dammit.”

The smile turned triumphant. “Good. Point for me.”

Keith wouldn’t look at him. He could feel heat creep up his neck, even going as far as to reach his ears. He was hyper aware of his hands resting on Lance’s shoulders.

“Ooo, and you’re blushing. I should get—”

And Keith kicked him on the shin.

“— _OW!”_

Keith turned and headed back toward the couch, leaving Lance to hop and rub at his leg.

“Not fair, _not fair!_ There should be a penalty!”

Keith ignored him, plopping back down in his seat and grabbing his drink to hide behind. Lance continued to complain, and of course, everyone was now watching them.

*             *             *             *             *

“Okay, it’s getting pretty late. We should probably head home.”

It was now 12:28, and Shiro, like the typical dad-figure he was to the group, insisted everyone went home for the night.

“Yep, and you kiddos have school tomorrow, right?” Matt asked, smirking as he ruffled Pidge’s hair. “Need to get a good night’s sleep for your education.”

Pidge looked at him pointedly. “Don’t you have work in six hours?”

“No, but if I did, I would act like a responsible adult and pass out and die during my shift.”

“You’re such a good example.”

“I know. Aren’t I a great older brother?”

“Well, who needs a ride?” Shiro asked. “With Matt, I only have room for one more passenger.”

“Actually, since you’re off tomorrow, wanna sneak into my dorm and spend the night? I have a project I wanna show you.”

Matt gasped, putting a hand to his chest. “ _Katie?_ My little sister breaking the rules and being _rebellious?”_ He sniffed, wiping away an imaginary tear. “I’m so proud.”

“Okay, so two open seats. Keith, wanna lift?”

“Sure.”

“I can take Matt and Pidge. They’re in the direction of Shay’s place.”

“Thanks. But first, I want to steal the rest of your trail mix. We need snacks.” Pidge abruptly turned and headed into the kitchen, Matt following behind greedily.

“I mean, _sure._ Since you asked so _nicely,_ just take our food. It regrows in the pantry anyway, apparently.”

Lance sped after them. _“Wait, don’t take all the pretzels!”_

“In that case,” Shiro nodded at Keith, “we’ll head out now. Thanks for having us.”

“Yes,” Allura added. “Thank you for inviting us. It was lovely to meet all of you.”

Shay came up and took her hand, smiling warmly. “Yes, it was very nice. I hope we meet again soon.”

With that, Shiro and Keith started to head out, Allura following behind them. Walking into the kitchen, Keith glanced over at the Holts, who were gathered around the counter along with Lance. The siblings had found the Ziploc bags and were shoveling leftover party snacks into them. Lance was watching them from the other end, eyes narrowed as he curled his arms around the pretzel bag in a cage, leaning over the counter to hunch over them for maximum protection.

The opportunity for revenge was _right there,_ and Keith had to take it.

Smirking, he put Lance in his path.

“Yeah, Lance, we’re leaving. Thanks for the party.”

And with that, he walked by and slapped him on the ass.

Lance’s reaction was immediate. He yelped, standing straight and spinning around, pretzel bag clutched to his chest. His eyes locked on Keith, wide and staring, red rushing quickly to his face. Keith took one look at him and burst out laughing, hugging his stomach as he headed out the door.

Outside, the chilly autumn air greeted him, but he didn’t much care as he pulled his jacket on. He was also met with Shiro, who was standing by the stairs, eyes zeroed in on Keith as he fought to contain his laughter.

“Is… is there something going on between you and Lance. Are you… a thing?”

Keith was still chuckling as he reached him. “No. Just a flirting contest.”

Shiro blinked. “A flirting contest?”

“Yeah.” Keith shrugged as he started descending the stairs. “Lance made a bet that I don’t know how to flirt. Long story short, we’re having a contest to see who’s better… Where’s Allura?”

“Right. Uh, she went ahead to the car. I… wanted to talk to you about her. Thanks for inviting her to the party. It means a lot.”

“Of course.” Keith glanced back at him, hands shoved in his pockets to keep away the cold. “What are brothers for? She sounded important to you and I wanted to meet her.”

“So… you like her?”

“I mean, yeah.” Keith shrugged. “She seems like a good person and she makes you happy. And I’m happy for you.”

Shiro gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Keith. That means a lot to me, coming from family.”

For a minute, the two of them walked silently, passing the third floor and reaching the second. It was really dark out, but there were lights on in the hallways that illuminated the stairs.

“Speaking of family.”

Keith glanced at Shiro again. He wasn’t looking at him, eyes cast to the trees outside.

“I mean—about Thanksgiving…”

Keith raised an eyebrow. “This again? I said you could bring Allura. It really isn’t that big of a deal.”

“Right.” Shiro sighed, pausing briefly on the stairs.

They had passed the second floor and were almost to the ground level. The look on his brother’s face made Keith stop, standing a few steps below him and looking up.

“What’s wrong?”

Shiro didn’t say anything for a moment, just chewing his lip.

“Dad called a few days ago. He says you’ve been ignoring his calls.”

Something cold dropped into Keith’s stomach, settling painfully in his gut. But his veins instantly ran hot, blood simmering just beneath his skin as he clenched his fists, turning and stomping quickly down the stairs. “You’re damn right I ignore his calls. We had a mutual understanding that we would never talk to each other ever again.”

He heard Shiro begin to follow him down, steps slow. “Yeah, I know. He knows that.”

“Then why the hell is he expecting me to pick up the phone? Why do _you_ pick up the phone?”

There was a sigh. “Because he’s my dad, Keith.”

“ _Your_ dad.”

“He and mom say they want to get together for Thanksgiving.”

Keith stopped dead at the bottom of the stairs. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, fists tightening in his pockets. He could barely make his jaw unhinge. “Why?”

“They want to try reconnecting.”

Keith scoffed, his voice echoing harshly in the night, sharp against the building. “Why? Why the _hell_ do they want to do that? They already made it obvious how they feel—”

“They said they miss us.” Shiro’s voice was quiet. He was standing behind him now, Keith could feel his presence at his back. “And also… they said they wanted to meet Allura. Now, I know we’ve had some… disagreements, but—”

“ _Disagreements?!”_ Keith spun around, jaw clenched as he faced his brother. “That’s a light way of putting it. And what do you mean _‘they want to meet Allura?’_ Have you—you’ve been talking to them?!”

“I didn’t until recently.” Shiro was looking at him, eyes steady and hands held out in a placating gesture. “Keith. I think we should give them a chance. They genuinely sound like they want to—”

“Want to what? Take us back?! That’s bullshit and you know it!”

“Keith—”

“No. Shiro, you know what, I can walk home. I’m fine.”

“It’s past midnight. Let me just—”

Shiro tried to put a hand on his arm, but Keith wrenched himself away.

“I said _I’m fine._ And you can tell mom and dad ‘no thanks.’ I’ve been done with them for a long time.”

Keith didn’t wait for Shiro to say anything else, just turned and walked away as quickly as he could. He sped past the parking lot, passing Shiro’s car on the way. He glanced at Allura watching him from the front passenger seat, eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he ignored her and kept going.

He barely made it to the edge of the parking lot before he broke out in a run, blindly following his feet wherever they took him. His feet pounded pavement, heart thumping furiously against his ribcage as he _flew,_ not knowing where he was going and not caring. He just wanted to get _away,_ get away and not think or feel about _anything._ Not now, not ever.

The chilly November air bit at his lungs, drying his throat painfully, but he kept running. Before he knew it, he was somehow back at his rundown apartment, fumbling with his keys.

The door swung in easily and Keith shut it behind him, slamming it loudly. He stood in the darkness of his apartment, not bothering to turn on the lights as he just stood there, breathing. His chest heaved and he swallowed, his throat dry and cold.

With a thump, his bag dropped to the floor beside him. Next moment, he was leaning against the door, slowly sliding down into a crouch. With his arms on his knees, he sat, staring into the darkness, still trying to catch his breath, calm his racing heart. But he was still panting, long after the exertion of his run had disappeared. And for hours he sat there, panting and staring at nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Score:  
> Keith - 5  
> Lance - 6
> 
> Honestly, I had planned to let Keith catch up, but my inner Lance decided to be hella suave and I couldn't say no to him.
> 
> On another note, I'm going to discuss pairings for this story. My main focus is Klance, and to be perfectly honest, the others are there mostly to advance plot. Because of that, I'm not really going to focus on them all that much. That sounds weird, but the fact that the pairings exist is what's important. And also, they're hard for me to write and it's just awkward. Sorry if I ruin it for you Shallura and/or Hunay shippers out there, but I'm just not as invested in them. Besides, the main relationships that are important here are Klance and the Broganes (both of which I would die for). This might even be the only chapter Allura is in unless I need to add some more interaction later. Nothing is definite but that's how it looks right now. Sorry to those who are disappointed.
> 
> PS, the song Matt needed to dance to was "Kill the Lights" by Alex Newell and DJ Cassidy. I just looked up songs that were better to dance with a partner and I kinda liked that one.
> 
> And, uh, sorry for that ending?  
> Well, Happy Holidays!


	4. Dreaded Conversations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter sucks but it may be because I'm over-critical of myself and due to the fact that I'm extremely tired right now. This is mostly a transitional installment, but tell me how I did.
> 
> Also, the chapter title could use some work, so feedback/suggestions would be appreciated.

Keith considered himself to be a very mature person. He was twenty years old, lived on his own, had a job, and paid his own bills. He could say, with great pride, that he fed himself food that didn’t instantly put him into cardiac arrest and could buy enough groceries every week to keep himself from perishing in his own filth. He could also talk to adults like he knew what he was doing and make phone calls to strangers about his credit card bill. He was responsible, hardworking, and independent. And so he was mature.

And just like any other mature adult would do, he avoided his brother for an entire week.

“Alright, Keith. Two more terms. What’s empiricism?”

Keith faced Lance from across the table, squinting at the index card held up to him. The two of them were sitting in the university library’s first floor. Thankfully, the silence policy only applied to the second and third floors, allowing them the freedom to study for their philosophy test at normal volume. Currently, Lance was quizzing Keith on important terms, leaving Keith to lean back in his chair with his arms crossed and do 99% of the thinking.

“It’s, uh, the belief that your knowledge of the world is based on sense experience.”

Lance raised his eyebrows. “And who’s the central philosopher?”

Keith paused. “John Locke?”

“Are you asking me or telling me.”

“Both?”

A small smirk pulled at Lance’s lips. “Well, you’re lucky you’re right.” He placed the card face-down on the table in another stack of cards, leaving one left in his hand. “What’s solipsism?”

“I swear these aren’t words,” Keith mumbled. “Uh… it’s the idea that the only thing you can be sure exists is your mind.”

“Mm-hmm. Go on.”

Keith stared, watching Lance continue to check the back of the card. What the hell else was he supposed to say?

Lance’s eyes flicked to glance up at him. “Need a hint?”

“Fine.”

“Just continue that thought. What does it mean about—” Lance gave a vague twirl of his hand, “—everything else?”

Keith had to pause again. “It doesn’t exist? Because what you experience could be something created by your own mind?”

“Bingo.” Lance slapped the final card down on the table. “Great job today, Mullet. Now we’ll definitely pass that test.”

“I would hope so,” Keith answered, watching Lance stretch his hands above his head with a yawn. “You really need the good grade.”

“I will have you know that I have a solid B in that class right now.” A glare accompanied those words, but the yawning turned the intended daggers into flower petals. “Now, while I would love to stick around with my favorite Mullet Head and study how fucked up the human mind is, I have to get to my chemistry lab.” Lance began tidying up his things, scooping his index cards into one hand and wrapping a rubber band around them.

“Got better things to do, huh. Alright, fine. I see how it is.”

“Don’t take it too personally. I can promise you that I’m running away from the subject, not you.”

“I find that very hard to believe.”

“Fine. Believe whatever you want… But you’re a science major now. You should at least partly understand.”

Speaking of science, Keith remembered he had a bio lab to write up before heading to his shift at the auto shop. “I should understand that writing extensive reports on molecules is fun?”

“Okay, no. That’s actually extremely boring. I mean the actual science part. Like the part where you get to watch stuff blow up.”

“I really hope you’re not talking about a biology lab.”

Lance scrunched his nose. “That would be gross. But you get what I mean! Like, I’m mad at High School Lance for falling asleep in his science classes. College Lance knows where it’s at and is very disappointed in High School Lance.”

Keith felt himself smile. “And what exactly does College Lance know besides how to mix alcohol?”

Lance pointed a finger at him. “I am both offended and flattered by that so I’m going to ignore it.”

Keith rolled his eyes.

There was a slight pause, Lance’s hands frozen in the process of zipping up his bag. “Well, College Lance knows that science can actually be really interesting. And he puts some of the blame on his nerdy friends for being bad influences, but it’s too late to do anything about it now.”

“They’re bad influences for making you care about school work?”

Lance waved him off. “Anyway, I’m just glad I got into something concrete like chemistry and not _this mess.”_ He gestured at the table. “Being a philosophy major sounds like a nightmare.”

“How so?”

“There aren’t any solid answers! Like, everything is just a circular argument that never finishes and uses words that arguably don’t exist. Like solipsism.”

Up until that point, Keith thought Lance had just been rambling. But watching him, he noticed that Lance had fixed all his attention on him, lips twitching in a threatening smile. He didn’t say anything for a moment, like he was waiting for Keith to prompt him forward. For the heck of it, Keith decided he’d bite.

He let the request sit on his tongue for a bit before he said it. “Please. Explain.”

The words finally made the smile fully break across Lance’s face. “Solipsism isn’t real. There’s _no way_ my mind alone could create something as beautiful as you.”

A bit of laughter bubbled from Keith’s chest. “Oh my God, Lance. You’re such a stud, I’m swooning.”

Lance pretended to dramatically flip hair he didn’t have. “I know. I have that effect on people.”

“And humble too.”

“I am a man of many fine qualities.” Lance threw a wink Keith’s way, making him roll his eyes through a smile he couldn’t hide. “Anyways, I really do have to go. I’ll see you… what, Tuesday?”

“Yeah.” Keith finally made his hand dig into his bag and pull out his lab report. “See you for the test. Have fun making test tubes explode.”

Lance slung his own bag onto his shoulder, turning with a sharp wave. “I sure will. See ya.”

Keith watched him go, the smile on his face softening. He hadn’t been having a good week, what with everything going on with Shiro. Hanging out with Lance was surprisingly relaxing. When Keith was alone, it was more than easy to let his mind wander to… _things._ But having Lance there as a distraction helped immensely, especially when they were still aggressively flirting with each other.

That wasn’t really something Keith ever thought he would say, but he meant it: flirting with Lance was relaxing.

A bag dropped beside the newly vacant seat, making Keith look up.

“Someone looks happy.” Pidge’s face was neutral as she sat down to face him. “Seems like a healthy dose of gay is good for the soul after all.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Keith replied, flipping open his notebook and reaching for a pen in his bag. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Pidge answered, shrugging as she crossed her arms and legs. “Thought I’d study with you before your shift. Also, I just wanted to talk to you for a bit.”

“Sure.” It took Keith a minute to fully process what she said as he frowned at an apparent miscalculation in his notes. “About what?”

There was a pause, making Keith look up from his paper with furrowed eyebrows. Pidge hadn’t moved to open her bag and instead continued to watch him from across the table, eyes narrowed slightly behind her glasses. It made Keith relax the hand holding his pen, placing it down on its side. He gave her a second, knowing that she would talk when ready now that he was giving his full attention.

Pidge took a breath. “Feel free to stop me if you don’t wanna talk about it—but I got a call from Shiro yesterday and he asked me to tell you to pick up your phone.”

She paused, eyes trained on Keith. He felt his shoulders tense at the mention of his brother and tried not to let it show as he met her gaze as calmly as possible.

“I said I would talk to you. Mind telling me what’s going on?”

Keith let the lull in their conversation drag on a bit. He’d learned a long time ago that answering any sensitive question too quickly was never a good idea for him.

Finally, he answered “Yeah, I do mind,” and bent his head toward his notebook again.

Pidge mirrored his silence. “I’m here if you wanna talk, you know.”

“I know. And I appreciate that.” Keith briefly paused in his recalculation to glance up at her, the reminder of the situation sending angry heat writhing through his chest. “But I’m fine, really. Just a fight between brothers.”

“If you say so.” If Pidge noticed any tightness in his voice, she didn’t comment on it, instead finally reaching down to pull her computer from her bag and set it down on the table. “But my door is always open.”

“Not after eleven, it’s not.”

“Please. We both know I would let you climb through my window if that’s what needed to be done.”

“I’d rather not get shot by campus security for breaking and entering.”

Pidge pressed the power button on her laptop, glancing up with a smile.  “Keith, buddy. Let me discuss with you my plan and seven contingencies for sneaking people into my dorm after curfew without getting caught.”

*             *             *             *             *

_“Hey, Keith. It’s your brother Shiro… uh, I just wanted to see if you wanted to talk about this. Call me back when you get the chance.”_

_“Hey, Keith, it’s Shiro. We need to talk about this. I know it’s hard and we’ve avoided mom and dad for a long time, but I think it could be worth it this time. Call me back, okay? I want to explain.”_

_“I want to give you the benefit of the doubt and say you’re busy. I’m leaving my phone on during work now, so call me if that’s better for you, alright? Hope to hear from you soon.”_

_“Keith, it’s me again. I still wanna talk about this. Call me back.”_

_“Keith, please. Can we just talk? You don’t have to commit to anything just yet, I just wanna talk to you. Please call me back.”_

_“Hey, Keith. Just so you know, mom and dad called again to ask about you and I’m sure that they’ve been calling you too. They’re really making an effort and I feel like that’s worth something. Please just consider that.”_

_“You’re skipping these aren’t you? Look, I just… I just wanna help, okay? Please talk to me… call me back.”_

_“Keith, please pick up the phone. This is starting to get ridiculous.”_

_“…”_

_“Okay look. We’re brothers, right? And we always look out for each other. That’s just what I’m trying to do. You may not see that or agree, but I’m trying, okay? I really am… Talk to you soon.”_

_“I love you, okay...? I just want you to know that… Please call me back.”_

Keith’s phone fell to the mattress with a soft _thump,_ his hand leaving it on the sheets to pull his knees to his chest. He hugged his legs with both arms, head falling to rest on them, and he sat in silence.

He really shouldn’t have listened to all of Shiro’s messages. Keith had told himself not to—it was better to ignore him because it was definitely better to pretend he was a stranger dialing the wrong number. And anyway, if Keith listened to him and took him seriously, he would just get angry and emotional and he really wasn’t in the mood to feel things right now.

But this was Shiro… he had to at least listen to his voicemails if he wasn’t going to pick up.

And of course, now Keith was emotional.

“Fuck.” The word came out in a breath, muffled by his lap as he pressed his eyes further into his knees. He really, really shouldn’t be doing this right now. He had to leave for work in fifteen minutes and he needed to get ready. None of this “emotions” bullshit was worth it, and he needed to stop.

But he couldn’t, which was the problem whenever it came to _feeling things._ It was hard to stop once he started and now things were spiraling and he could feel his chest _burn_ and he hated feeling like this.

Keith took a deep breath, feeling the air fill the empty ache in his chest. Gritting his teeth, he pushed his legs over the edge of his bed and stood, walking over to a pile of laundry he had set in a chair in the corner.

Maybe if he just focused on work he wouldn’t feel this way.

*             *             *             *             *

About an hour into his shift, Keith had spilled coolant all over his coveralls and dropped a tool box on his foot.

Metal clattered loudly on concrete, tools spilling all over the floor. Keith yelped a curse, jaw clenching and body drawing taut. For a split second, the top of his foot buzzed gently, then blazed with raw, searing pain.

“Keith!” Rolo called from nearby, looking up from a Harley Davidson. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” The words came through clenched teeth, tense as Keith stood perfectly still. He didn’t dare move, waiting for the pain to go away before gaining enough courage to wiggle his toes. He could still feel them, and they moved without much effort despite how sore they were, so nothing was broken. It still hurt like a bitch though.

“That’s your second accident today,” Rolo said, walking over to him with hands on his hips. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yep. Never better.” The fact that Keith’s voice was tight didn’t help.

“Yeah, no you’re not. Go see Coran.”

“I don’t need to see Coran.”

“From what’s happened today, I think you do.” Rolo crossed his arms over his chest, looking at Keith with raised eyebrows. “Look, something is obviously up with you. Now either you go tell Coran what happened, or I tell him for you.”

“I don’t want—” Keith shut his mouth. He could feel the irritation flare up his throat and had no intention of letting it out. He swallowed. “Fine.”

Gingerly, he took a step forward, testing his weight on his foot. There was a twinge, but he could walk on it, and so stepped out of the pile of tools in the direction of his boss’s office.

Coran was the head mechanic and owner of the repair shop, and consequently Keith’s boss. And while Keith liked and respected the man, he’d rather not go to him about this. Or anything like this.

When Keith knocked on Coran’s door and heard “Come in,” he pulled the door open and went straight to his desk.

Coran was already looking up, hands hovering over the keyboard of his computer. He was wearing a starch button-down, as he usually did, which was pale blue and buttoned all the way up. A navy tie was knotted around his neck, tight and neat in a way that Keith could never pull off. He wasn’t exactly the type to dress formally.

“Ah, Keith.” Coran turned in his seat to face him, resting his hands on the desk and folding them together. “What can I do for you, my boy?”

“Nothing,” Keith answered immediately, but caught himself and added, “I mean, nothing much.”

 “Well there must be a reason why you came to my office. Would you like to sit down?”

“No, I’m fine. I was going to go right back to work, but…” Keith shifted his foot, hiding a wince with a sigh. “Rolo wanted me to tell you that I dropped a tool box.”

“Ah, that’s what that noise was. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“No. Like I said, I’m fine. Rolo just made me come in and tell you.”

Coran sat back in his chair, reaching for the mug of coffee to his right. “Well if Rolo convinced you to come in here, it must be important. I’m leaning toward agreeing with him, considering the state of your uniform.”

Keith glanced down at the large stain covering his entire front. “About that—”

“You normally don’t make these kinds of mistakes. Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Keith sighed again. “Just tired.”

For a moment, Coran studied him, hand setting down his coffee to stroke at his mustache. “Alright. You can go back to work. But I want you to take stock of inventory and work the front desk.”

“Coran—”

“No buts!” Coran interrupted, leaning sharply over his desk to wag a finger. “Considering you seem a little out of it today, you’re not giving me much choice. You could get hurt. Also, I saw you limp on your way in here and I would prefer you not make yourself worse. I may be getting on a bit in years, but I’m still sharp as a tack!”

Keith hefted a breath. “Coran. I don’t doubt your judgement—but I promise you I am fine and can get back to work.”

“And I don’t doubt _that,_ but I’m sorry. I’d rather you take it easy today than push yourself. Now. Here’s the inventory sheet. I’m sure you know what to do with it.”

Coran took a brown clipboard from a drawer under his desk and handed it to Keith. Keith grimaced, but took it nonetheless. “What about my shift?”

“I expect you to be in tip-top shape tomorrow! But in the meantime, the Coranic will pick up the slack!” At “Coranic,” Coran flexed the muscles of his right arm, making Keith roll his eyes. His boss had always been like that—a bit odd—but over the past couple years, Keith had gotten used to Coran just being Coran. Normally, Keith would roll his eyes good-naturedly with a barely hidden smile and say “of course.” But right now, he could only manage a twitch of the lips and “right.”

“Excellent. I’m glad we’re on the same page. Now, the inventory won’t check itself. Let’s get to it! Chop-chop!”

Coran shooed Keith out, who reluctantly turned and stepped into the hallway, alone with a clipboard and a lack of motivation.

Sighing for the millionth time, Keith turned and began to make his way to the garage.

*             *             *             *             *

Any other day, Keith wouldn’t have minded taking inventory or working the front desk. They were easy tasks, and while they weren’t exactly where his expertise lie, he could manage just fine on a slow day to combat any boredom. But today? Right now? He’d rather drop _a hundred_ toolboxes on his foot because now there was nothing distracting him from his own mind.

Inventory wasn’t _too bad._ He could occupy himself with counting spare parts and inspecting freon tanks. Keeping track of what was there and what wasn’t at least required some form of concentration. But after that, he was left to sit by himself at a desk rarely anyone visited, leaving him to stew in his festering thoughts.

By the time his shift was over, Keith felt a headache coming on, one that started off like cotton stuffed into his brain. He had class in half an hour, but he didn’t feel much like going. He didn’t feel like going home either, even though the idea of being alone right now was very appealing. It was too far and required too much effort. Plus, it was predictable to certain individuals he was trying to avoid. So, he went to somewhere in the middle: Jan’s Java.

About twenty minutes later, the bell rang at the entrance of the café as he walked in and headed straight for the bar counter.

“Hey, Keith. What… are you doing here?” Leo glanced up from wiping down a table but paused when he saw Keith throw down his bag and sit heavily in his chosen seat, which seemed to be the first one he came to. “You okay?”

“Fine. I want a black coffee. And a glass of water with no ice.”

“Um, okay. Coming right up.” Leo stood slowly from his table, eyebrows furrowed, but set his cleaning cloth down and went behind the counter. A minute later, he set a mug, a glass, and a straw in front of Keith, who didn’t waste any time in picking up the glass and chugging it.

Leo stared with wide eyes. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Keith set the glass down with a heavy _thud._ “Yeah. Perfectly fine.” Without pause, he picked up the steaming mug of coffee and took a large gulp.

“Right…”

Keith slammed the mug down too, tongue and throat still burning and coated with the taste of bitter, black coffee. After a second, he took another swig.

Leo continued to watch him. “Keith, do you need me to call anyone or—?”

“I said I’m fine!” Keith snapped, eyes cutting at him over his mug. “Can I just—can you give me a minute?”

He watched as Leo blinked, shoulders shrinking in. “Right. No, of course, just… call me if you need anything.” And without another word, he hurried off to continue bussing tables.

Keith’s grip on the mug handle tightened and he cursed sharply under his breath. Regret washed over him, but it was too late to fix things now--the moment had gone. So he sat in silence, staring at the dark contents of the drink between his hands, thoughts swirling.

He was angry. He knew that, and was overly aware of that, but he couldn’t seem to ever do much about it. It was like he was always angry, always ruled by his emotions and out of control and he _hated it._ He _hated_ having to deal with something he could barely understand. He hated his parents. He hated that they still had this effect on him and that they somehow still had a say in his life. He hated that they still called him, hated that they wanted to reconnect because _what the hell did that mean?_ He hated that they dared call his brother. And worst of all, _he hated that his brother wanted him to call them back._

But that didn’t even _begin_ to cover all the emotion churning in his chest. He wanted to say he hated Shiro too, but _God_ he really didn’t and that’s what was so confusing. He didn’t hate Shiro—could _never_ hate him—but right now he was trying to with all he had. He loved Shiro, loved him more than anything he had loved before and it was terrifying. Keith’s brother was the most precious thing he had and yet Shiro was insisting he talked to the very people he hated the most. He couldn’t help but feel betrayed, like Shiro was betraying him, and even though Shiro said it was in his best interest and that he loved him back it still _hurt._ What kind of brother would jerk him around like that?

Keith heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair, and he took another sip of his coffee before laying his head in his arms. He sat like that for a while, just sipping at his bitter coffee and listening to other customers come and go. Occasionally, he would get a refill from Leo, but neither of them talked and Keith somewhat preferred it that way. He didn’t trust himself to have a verbal filter around Leo at the moment.

After about an hour, just when Keith was thinking about heading for class, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He knew that everyone he even remotely cared about had a general idea of his schedule, meaning that they wouldn’t call him right now since he was supposed to be in class. And unless someone was dying, that only left one option. One Keith didn’t much care for.

So Keith ignored his cell, grinding his teeth and hands tightening around his mug.

“I thought I recognized that mullet.”

Keith turned to his left, and of course, Lance was pulling out the chair next to him, inviting himself to take a seat.

Keith knew what he said earlier about how hanging out with Lance was relaxing. But right now, he just really wanted Lance to leave.

Lance dropped his bag on the floor and hopped up onto the stool. “So, how’s it going, samurai? What are you doing at Jan’s this late? Class cancelled?”

When Keith didn’t immediately answer, Lance smirked, leaning in close. “Are you telling me that Keith Kogane is skipping class?”

Keith sighed, hunched over the counter as he brought his mug to his lips. “Yeah, Lance. I’m skipping class.”

“Mmm. Gotta love a rebel.” Lance tossed a wink at him, but Keith didn’t react as Leo came over, giving Lance a small smile.

“Hey, Lance. What can I get for you?”

“Hmm. Give me an iced chocolate cappuccino, I feel like mixing it up.”

“Alright, coming right up.” Before he left, Leo’s gaze flicked at Keith and back at Lance.

If Lance noticed, he didn’t say anything, just leaned his elbows on the counter and glanced over at Keith. “So. What are you doing skipping class? Don’t you have biology?”

Keith didn’t answer, just took a sip of his coffee. Lance watched him from the side, his eyebrows furrowing. “Hey, man. You okay—”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Keith was so tired of people asking that.

“Alright, chill. I was just asking.” That seemed to sour Lance’s mood. His shoulders hunched as he leaned further on the counter, jaw clenching. “I’m sorry that I care enough to check on you.”

Keith’s hands tightened around his drink again. He was surprised the mug hadn’t burst apart in his hands yet.

“Here’s your cappuccino.” Leo had returned, setting a cup and a straw on the counter in front of Lance. “Can I get you anything else?”

“No, but you can get Keith a better attitude.” Lance took the straw in hand and began beating the end on the table to crumple the wrapper off.

Keith grit his teeth. “If you don’t like it then leave.”

“Sorry, I just got here. I’m not going anywhere… And where are _you_ going?”

Keith’s chair scraped a bit as he got down. “If you’re not leaving, _I_ am _._ I didn’t come here just so you could be an ass.”

“Oh, _I’m_ the ass?” Lance had turned in his seat to stare at him, eyebrows raised. “You’ve been snappy and closed off since I got here. _You’re_ the ass, not me.”

Keith rolled his eyes, snatching his bag from the floor. “Whatever. Bye.”

There was a sigh. “Keith, wait. I’m sorry.” Lance hopped off his stool, but Keith was already taking steps to walk away. _“Keith.”_

Keith felt a hand on his arm. His skin itched like spiders were crawling under it. Without thinking, he shoved backward.

There was a crash, and heart wrenching, Keith spun around. He saw Lance leaning against his chair, arm resting haphazardly on the counter, teeth clenched as he remained still.

Keith didn’t move. “Lance, I—”

And then Lance lurched forward and shoved him hard on the chest. _“Dude, what the hell?!”_

Keith stumbled back a few steps, eyes wide. Lance was glaring at him, gaze sharp and unforgiving.

Leo was staring at them on the other side of the counter. “Hey, knock it off!”

Lance ignored him. “I’m trying to be a good friend to you and _this_ is how I’m treated? Some friend you are. If you just want to keep shutting other people out and be alone for the rest of your life, then go ahead!”

“Well I told you that I was fine and obviously wanted to be left alone.” Keith felt his anger flare, burning from his stomach through his chest like someone had thrown water on a grease fire. “What kind of friend are you if all you’re going to do is ignore what I want? Stop forcing yourself into other people’s business. You just want attention!”

“Guys!” Leo had rushed around the counter, pushing the two of them apart. Keith hadn’t even noticed they were standing so close together. “Can we just take a step back and cool off? Let’s not do anything we’ll regret.”

Lance stepped back, still angry as he threw his hands in the air. Keith clenched his jaw, resisting Leo’s hand as his body itched to move forward. Then he registered the hand on his chest, firm but gentle as it pleaded with him to stop.

He took it a step further and walked away.

Keith stepped back, Leo watching him with round eyes. “Fine. Whatever, I’m leaving.”

Hefting his bag on his shoulder, he turned on his heel and left the café.

*             *             *             *             *

Someone was knocking hard and fast on Keith’s front door and he honestly wished he had the sense to skip town when he had the chance.

_“Keith!”_

He could hear Pidge calling his name, pounding on the door a few more times for good measure.

_“Keith, I know you’re in there. I know how to track your phone.”_

Stupid technology.

Pidge sighed. _“Look, I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me. So either open the door or I’m just going to keep screaming at you from outside.”_

Keith didn’t move from his spot on the floor, curled on his side and facing the wall. He considered not answering Pidge at all, just staying silent until she left.

His phone buzzed by his head. He knew who it was before he picked it up.

[Pidge: I could also just do this and you know I have unlimited texting _–6:12 pm_ ]

[Pidge: I could also call you until you pick up _–6:12 pm_ ]

[Pidge: And keep yelling your name through the door until your landlord comes down here _–6:12 pm_ ]

[Pidge: I know you think she’s creepy and secretly some kind of cryptid who only comes out at night _–6:13 pm_ ]

[Pidge: Honestly we should investigate that. I feel like your claim is somewhat valid _–6:13 pm_ ]

Keith felt a smile pull at his lips in spite of himself. His phone buzzed a few more times as he stared at it.

[Pidge: Which reminds me I haven’t seen the newest Buzzfeed Unsolved yet so you should watch it with me _–6:13 pm_ ]

[Pidge: Keith, come on _–6:13 pm_ ]

[Pidge: KEITH _–6:13 pm_ ]

[Keith: Door’s open _–6:14 pm_ ]

Seconds after he hit send, he heard Pidge kick his door in.

“And you still need to get your door fixed,” he heard her shout as she came in, slamming the door so it closed all the way. “I thought it was locked.”

He could hear her shuffling around a little bit, taking her shoes off before heading into the room. Which he appreciated even though he hated his apartment.

It took a minute, but eventually her steps came closer, pausing at the threshold between the kitchen and his bedroom. He could feel her watching him, and he didn’t move, even when she sighed and walked into the room. She sat on the floor behind him, leaving enough space that he didn’t feel her body heat but could tell she was there. It was odd to say, but he felt overly aware of the room.

“How long?” she asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

Keith didn’t immediately answer, just stared at the wall, finger tapping periodically on the carpet. “Since after Halloween.”

“Keith, we agreed.”

“I was handling it.”

“Emphasis on _‘was.’_ ”

After a moment, a tentative hand rested on Keith’s shoulder. He was too tired to fight or resist, and so let it roll him over onto his back. His eyes stubbornly stuck to the wall, but he could feel Pidge watching him, gaze soft and sympathetic.

“Keith… you promised me.”

He closed his eyes with a sigh. Finally, he turned his head to look at her properly. “Yeah. I know.”

Pidge pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them, resting her chin as she looked at him. “Even if you don’t tell me, you should tell someone. It’s important that you know you have people looking out for you.”

Keith curled on his side so he faced her. He glanced up briefly, but dropped his gaze as he took a breath, stomach knotting uncomfortably. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… sometimes it’s hard to tell if I actually _need_ to talk or if I’m just… whining.”

There was a pause. Pidge continued to watch Keith. Keith looked to the floor, feeling unnerved at the thought of meeting her eyes.

“Honestly, you could whine to me about anything and I wouldn’t judge you.”

Keith finally looked up, giving a small smile. “Yeah. I know.”

Her statement brought back the flash of a memory. He was fifteen again, lying on his stomach with his homework strewn across his bed. Pidge was there too, working on math problems beside him. She sat up suddenly, eyes cast down at a math problem he had noticed she’d been staring at for the past ten minutes.

“Keith,” she had said, managing to glance at him for only a moment before looking away again. “I have to tell you something. And it may change the way you think of me, but I _need_ to tell someone… I’m trans. Which means I’m actually a girl.”

Keith had stared at her, pencil resting on his chin. He had known what the term meant, had heard it floating around school and on the internet. But once he heard it from her mouth, heard her explain it to him, it had clicked easily into place. And anyway…

He pushed his homework to the side and sat up, Pidge blinking now that he was suddenly very close. Hands braced on his knees, Keith looked her right in the eye and said “I’m gay.”

Pidge blinked one more time. “Oh. Cool.”

Keith couldn’t help himself. He laughed, his heart still thudding loudly in his chest. “That’s it?”

“Well, I mean, _yeah,”_ Pidge answered, a grin blooming on her face. “What else did you want me to say? That _is_ pretty cool.”

They laughed together for a good fifteen minutes. Keith had never felt lighter—or closer to anyone before that moment. It had felt good to share such a burning secret with someone who was close to him after finding out he wasn’t alone.

Pidge had been the first to make him feel that way. He would always treasure her friendship.

And that’s what ran through his mind as they sat together on his apartment floor, giving her that small, melancholy smile.

She returned it, tapping his shoulder gently with the back of her hand. “Good. Now, do you feel up to whining or do you wanna take a shower first?”

Keith gave that a second of thought. “Shower sounds good.”

“Cool. I’ll order pizza. And I was serious about watching Buzzfeed.”

Keith pushed himself up into a sitting position, smiling wryly. “Yeah, I got that.” He got to his feet, giving Pidge one last appreciative smile before turning to grab some clothes. He left Pidge on the floor as she pulled out her phone, and he headed to the bathroom.

Taking a shower was a good call. He didn’t really want to do it—he never did when he felt like this. But he knew that actively trying to take care of himself always made him feel better to some degree, even if it was minimal. Showers helped the most. The steam and the fresh smell of soap was therapeutic somehow, cleansing him of some of the dark shroud draped over him.

When he finally left the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel, Pidge was sitting cross-legged on his bed, which was now made, her computer on her lap.

“You know, it would probably help if you kept your room clean. But I’ve been around you long enough to know that cleaning things creates an uninhabitable environment.”

Keith rolled his eyes, tossing his towel onto the chair in the corner. “Whatever. I don’t care enough about this place to clean anything. Make room.”

Pidge did as she was told, scooting over to give Keith room on the wall beside her. “Alright. We can fit in an episode before the delivery guy gets here. Strap in for the ride of a lifetime.”

*             *             *             *             *

Just before the episode ended, someone knocked on the door and Keith made to get up. Pidge immediately ordered him to stay put, saying “My dad’s paying. He gave me permission to use his credit card today and you know I’m taking advantage.” And so he sat, waiting patiently for Pidge to come back.

When she did, she dropped a pizza box and a box of breadsticks in his lap before heading back to the kitchen for napkins and to search for drinks. Luckily, he still had some cans of Sprite in the fridge, and she handed one to him before settling comfortably on his bed to finish the last couple minutes of their show.

Keith opened the breadsticks and some marinara sauce. Pidge immediately grabbed one to munch on, making him laugh to himself. She gave him the side eye.

“What? I like breadsticks.”

“I had no idea.”

“Shut up, smartass.”

Keith didn’t make a sound, but he smiled as he grabbed his own breadstick.

They actually ate through their food rather quickly, moving from bread to pizza in a matter of minutes. That was mostly due to Pidge, but Keith didn’t mind as he took his first bite of pizza. Pidge had gotten supreme even though she didn’t like onions and bell peppers.

“Feeling better yet?” she asked, picking some of the toppings off her pizza and piling them on Keith’s side of the pizza box.

“Yeah, a little… thanks, Pidge.”

“Anytime.” She finally took a bite, chewing thoughtfully. “Now, I hate to bring down the mood, but Shiro’s been texting me. And I talked to Lance.”

Keith sighed, hand dropping to rest his pizza in the box. “Yep. Mood ruined.”

Pidge grimaced. “Sorry. But I promised them I would talk to you. Shiro says you still won’t talk to him. What’s going on with the Broganes?”

Keith smiled in spite of himself. “I still hate that you and Matt came up with that.”

“You love it and you know it. Now don’t avoid the question, Kogane.”

He honestly really wanted to avoid the question, but he knew he couldn’t forever. “Shiro and I are having a fight.”

Pidge took a sip of her drink. “About what? You guys are so close. Possibly closer than me and Matt. What could you have to fight about?”

Keith had to take another breath. Just thinking about it made his chest squirm. “Our parents.”

There was a long pause. Pidge’s eyes widened, and she lowered her drink to rest on her thigh. “Oh. Damn, what… do you mind telling me or…?”

Keith shook his head, leaning tiredly against the wall. “They’ve been calling me. And Shiro’s been talking to them because they want to ‘reconnect,’ but I’m honestly not interested, and he knows that.”

“You have every right to not be interested. You don’t owe them anything.”

He really wanted to hug Pidge in that moment. Finally, someone got it. “And yet Shiro _asked me_ to talk to them. I just—it feels like he’s betraying me. And I… it’s confusing.” He felt himself shrink just saying it. He had never said it out loud before.

Pidge sat quietly, thumbing the rim of her soda can in thought. “That’s heavy… but it’s Shiro. I’m not saying you should talk to your parents—that’s up to you to decide and I will support whatever you choose. But you should at least talk to Shiro. If he’s asking you to do this, he must have his reasons. I know he wouldn’t try to hurt you on purpose. He practically turns to jelly in anything that concerns you.”

Warmth pricked gently at Keith’s chest through all the unease. It was somewhat comforting to hear from someone else that his brother obviously loved him. “I probably should call him back, then.”

“That might be a good idea, yeah. He’s already threatened to show up at school to find you.”

Keith grimaced. “Please tell him that I will call tomorrow.”

Pidge had already whipped out her phone. “Sure thing.”

He watched as her fingers typed out a message, not focusing on the words so much as the movement itself. He was dreading talking to Shiro about this family mess. But he had to admit he missed talking to his brother. He looked forward to things getting back to normal. He missed their weekly lunch together.

It seemed that Pidge had finally pressed send, because she placed her phone down on the bed and turned to look at Keith once again. “Now. About Lance.”

Speaking of dreading conversations and missing people.

Keith’s gut twisted painfully, and he grit his teeth as a wave of guilt swept over him. “What did he tell you?”

Pidge was quiet for a second, studying him thoughtfully. “He said you got in a fight. Mind telling me about _that?”_

“I had a bad day, okay?” he grumbled, arms crossing over his stomach. “All this shit with Shiro and then I made some mistakes at work today and I took it out on him.”

Pidge sighed. “This is why we talk about our feelings, Keith.”

“Yeah, I _know…_ And I know he didn’t deserve that, I just don’t—I don’t know how to…” Keith stopped short in frustration, crumpling a napkin in his fist.

“You don’t know how to apologize.”

He heaved a sigh. “Yeah. That.”

“Maybe… you should just talk to him.” Pidge took another sip of her Sprite, watching him. “I don’t think it’s my place to say too much, but. You should talk to him.”

“I hate that your advice about talking out my feelings is actually valid.”

Pidge tossed him a smile. “I’m sorry that a healthy lifestyle goes against your introverted nature.”

Pushing the cardboard husks of their dinner off his lap, Keith laid on his side, face squashed into his pillow. “Don’t remind me.”

“I’ll help you work it out. Don’t worry.” With that, Pidge tapped his hip with her palm once, almost on his butt, making Keith lift his head with narrowed eyes.

“That’s homophobic.”

Pidge snickered. “That’s _a_ phobic. _And_ transphobic.”

“Bite me.”

“Don’t think I’m the right person you should ask for that.”

Keith laughed. He could feel his chest lightening, the lead slowly evaporating from his heart. Pidge shifted on the bed, carefully placing her can on the floor before turning and leaning back against Keith’s legs.

“Is it okay if I crash here for the night?”

“Sure. I thought that’s what you were doing anyway. I don’t mind.”

“Sweet.”

“I’m more surprised that you’re asking.”

Pidge shrugged. “Hey, I had to ask. Consent is important in a relationship.”

Keith chuckled again, but said nothing, letting the room fall into a peaceful silence. A while later, Pidge asked to use his shower. When she got back, the two of them spread out on different ends of the bed and fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Score:  
> Keith - 5  
> Lance - 6
> 
> Sorry. Not a lot of flirting this time around. It will be back next chapter, I promise.
> 
> And may I just say that I love the idea of a close Keith/Pidge friendship?
> 
> You can follow my Tumblr shiori07 for writing/asks or fanaticcriminal for fun.


	5. An Inevitable Chain of Confrontations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if anyone cares anymore but here, take this thing.

“I changed my mind. Help me move to Canada under a different name.”

“As fun as that sounds, I’m not going to help you run away from your problems.”

Keith sighed heavily, head tilted back toward the sky. “I figured it was a long shot.”

“Don’t stress out too much. Everything will be fine.” Pidge hopped over a puddle on the sidewalk next him, one hand holding her bag on her shoulder, the other stretched out to keep her balance. It had rained earlier that morning, making the outside humid and stuffy and causing the two of them to spend some time keeping dry inside Keith’s apartment. The rain had lasted until around ten, giving them about an hour to discuss Keith’s “plan of attack.”

“In theory.”

“In theory,” Pidge agreed. “But I’m very good at being realistic in my theorizing, so you should be good.”

“Hopefully.”

Pidge rolled her eyes. “Has Lance answered yet?”

Reluctantly, Keith tugged his phone from his back pocket. He felt it buzz a minute ago but had almost been too afraid to check it. There was a text notification on his lock screen, and upon opening it, he was brought to his chat with Lance.

[Lance: I can meet you starting at 11 but my shift starts at 1 _—10:45 am_ ]

“He says he can meet me at eleven. What should I say?”

“Don’t be a middle school tween with a crush. Just tell him you’ll meet him there.”

Keith narrowed his eyes in Pidge’s direction, but soon looked back at his cell.

[Keith: 11 is fine. See you there _—10:47 am_ ]

He hit send, then took a moment and just stared. “Yeah, no, that was really awkward. I’m never getting texting advice from you again.”

Before he could put his phone away, Pidge plucked it from his hand and studied the message on the screen. “That was more than fine, don’t be so dramatic. My advice is a Godsend and you know it.”

She handed it back and Keith immediately pocketed it. “I guess. Just know that if he murders me, it’s your fault.”

“If he murders you, it will be entirely _your_ fault. But he won’t as long as you follow the plan.”

“Where in the plan did you give me instructions to prevent my own death?”

“The part where is said ‘don’t get angry and be nice.’”

“That’s helpful, thank you.”

“I trust you to figure out the right thing to do in the moment.” The two of them had stopped at a red light, and Pidge turned her head so she could look Keith in the eye. “You’re perfectly capable of being genuine, you just have to let yourself show it.”

Keith was careful not to look at her. He appreciated what she was saying—it gave him a little more confidence to do what needed to be done. But hearing someone talk so earnestly about him like that was a little… well, “off-putting” was the best phrase he could think of right now. “Thanks. Hopefully you’re right.”

“I always am.”

Keith scoffed, but he didn’t deny it. “Anyway, are you sure you don’t want me to just walk you to the library?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. It’s only a few blocks from here. And besides, you don’t need an excuse to be late.”

They were finally coming up on Jan’s and it was ten minutes to eleven. Keith wouldn’t admit that he was indeed looking for an excuse to avoid the café a few minutes longer. Pidge was too smart to fall for any of his excuses anyway.

So he sighed, stopping for a brief moment with Pidge in front of the double glass doors.

“Fine. I’ll just go then. Alone.”

Pidge waved as she took a step away from him, breaking out into a quick jog to leave him as quickly as possible. “Good luck. Have fun.”

“In case I die, I entrust you with my funeral arrangements.”

 “You’ll be fine!” his friend called, already turning the corner. And then she was gone, leaving Keith standing in front of what may very well be the place he would die in. With a final sigh, he turned and entered the café, sealing what he considered to be his grim fate.

The bell tinkled as Keith walked in, and he awkwardly stood in the entrance. It was moderately busy in Jan’s that day with more than half of the tables taken up—which was normal just before noon on a Saturday.

“Welcome to Jan’s Java!” a familiar voice called from the counter, drawing Keith’s eyes toward the speaker.

Leo had barely glanced up from the cash register, as he was checking out a customer, but paused briefly when he saw Keith. They made eye contact, and Keith remembered how shitty he had been toward Leo the day before. In an effort to make up for his behavior, he gave a small nod in acknowledgement. The gesture made Leo smile minutely in return before he went back to his customers. Keith took that as a good sign and went to sit at the counter.

He sat patiently—and patiently meant drumming his fingers on the table with his chin propped in one hand, but he thought he was doing well considering the situation—and waited for the inevitable chain of confrontations to begin.

It was a few minutes before Leo came over. And in those minutes, Keith conjured up at least two plausible aliases he could use if he really _did_ decide to move to Canada. Not that he would use them… but it was good to have a back-up plan.

When Leo finally finished with the last customer in line, he turned and made his way toward the bar. Keith removed his chin from his hand and slapped his tapping fingers flat on the table.

“Hey, Keith,” Leo greeted with a smile, though Keith could tell the smile was a little flatter than usual. “What can I get for you today?”

“Actually—” Keith began, though he halted and grit his teeth.

Leo lifted his eyebrows slightly, less in expectation and more in encouragement. “Yes?”

Finally, Keith sighed, scratching at the back of his hand even though it didn’t itch. “Before anything else, I want to say that I’m sorry. I was a total dick to you yesterday and it was uncalled for.”

There was a second of pause, but at the end of it, Leo gave a small smile. “It’s okay. I figured you were having a bad day.”

“No, it’s not.” Keith rubbed at his arm and huffed another sigh. “That shouldn’t be an excuse for me to snap at you or… Shit, I forgot to pay, didn’t I?” He immediately dug into his pocket for his wallet, but Leo quickly tried to wave him off.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. It was on me, alright?”

But Keith had already pulled out a ten and slapped it on the table. “Let me pay you back. Keep the change.”

“K… Keith, you ordered black coffee and a water, I can’t—”

“Keep it,” Keith insisted, though he realized his tone had turned sharp and added a softer “please,” fingers curling into his palm against the table as he made himself relax.

Leo blinked down at the dollar bill, then glanced at Keith’s hand, and finally at Keith himself. Keith made a point to keep eye-contact, trying to get the point across that he was _completely_ serious and wouldn’t let Leo give him back any money.

Finally, Leo’s lips tilted in a half smile, and he slid the money off the table. “Well… thanks, then. It wasn’t necessary, but thank you.”

Keith felt himself relax a little, and he smiled back. “You’re welcome. So long as we’re still friends.”

“Oh.” Leo crossed his arms. “So you were hoping to buy back my friendship.”

Keith froze, jaw going slack and eyes widening the smallest fraction. “Wait, no, that’s not—”

The barista interrupted him with a laugh, one that was small and good-natured. “Relax, Keith. I’m only joking. Now, what can I get for you today? I’m sure you didn’t come in here just for me—though it breaks my heart to say so.”

Keith blinked, fixating on Leo’s now-easy smile. “Uh… I’ll have a caramel macchiato.”

“Great, coming right up.”

“Wait.” Just before Leo could turn away, Keith remembered what else he had come for. “Can you also make a white chocolate peppermint mocha? Venti would probably be best.”

For a second, Leo just stared at him, and Keith wondered if he had even heard him.

“White chocolate peppermint mocha. Isn’t that Lance’s ‘treat drink’?”

“Uh, yeah.” Keith rubbed at the back of his neck. “I asked him to meet me here.”

“You sure that’s best after what happened yesterday?”

Keith winced involuntarily. “It’s because of yesterday that I asked him to meet me. I have more than one apology to make today.”

Leo hummed, taking his first step away from the counter. “Alright. I’ll make those and have them right out to you.”

“Thanks, Leo. You’re the best.”

“I know,” Leo answered rather flippantly, smiling at Keith over his shoulder before grabbing some things to make the new order.

Now that Keith was alone (or as alone as he could be in a café), he let himself relax in his chair a bit, taking a breath of relief now that he had mended at least one relationship today. Maybe he could breeze through the rest of them just as successfully. The thought made Keith dare to feel a bit hopeful, though thinking about the rest of his plans almost instantly squashed what little light making amends with Leo had created.

Sighing, Keith tugged his phone out of his pocket. The least he could do was inform Pidge of his one success.

[Keith: Everything’s good with Leo. Just waiting for Lance to get here— _11:02 am_ ]

[Pidge: See? I told you you could do it. Let me know how it goes with Lance— _11:03 am_ ]

[Keith: If I survive— _11:03 am_ ]

[Pidge: Stop being so dramatic. That’s Lance’s shtick— _11:04 am_ ]

In spite of his mood, Keith smiled to himself and placed his phone face-down on the counter. At least he knew he had _someone_ looking out for him if he decided to hop the border.

The sound of a bell ringing brought Keith’s attention away from his phone, and with a jolt, he turned in his seat to stare at the entrance. A bit of relief washed over him even though he knew this was only a delay in the inevitable—Lance wasn’t the person pushing the door open.

But of course, Keith noticed a second later that Lance was the one following in right after that person.

Before Lance could notice _him,_ Keith quickly turned in his chair, trying to act normal and casual and far more relaxed than he felt.

“Smooth,” he heard Leo say, and looked up to see the barista holding two coffee cups. He was still smiling, though now it was obviously because he was laughing to himself as he set the cups on the counter. “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” Keith grumbled, though he nodded at Leo gratefully and handed him some more money to pay for the drinks. In a matter of seconds, Leo swiped the bills off the table and left Keith space to handle the dogfight that was bound to follow.

“Hey.”

Lance spoke from behind the chair next to Keith, not sitting down but merely letting Keith know he had arrived. Keith turned his head, swallowing before opening his mouth in a reply: “Hey.”

In the awkward pause that followed, Keith took the opportunity to study Lance. His dark eyes were narrowed at him slightly—not necessarily in a hostile way, but more subdued, like he was just wary (Keith could understand why). Overall, however, he seemed more or less at ease. He didn’t look ready for a fight. In fact, he was dressed for the opposite—he was wearing black pants and a button-up shirt, and while that seemed like formal-wear at first glance, Keith knew it was just Lance’s uniform. He worked at an Italian restaurant nearby and would more than likely leave Jan’s and go directly there after they were done… talking.

After a minute of mutual staring, Keith cleared his throat and pushed the cup marked with the letter “L” toward the seat next to him. “A peace offering.”

“…Hmm.” Lance followed the drink with his eyes thoughtfully, briefly glancing at Keith before pulling the chair out and taking a seat. “Alright. You bought me coffee. You have my attention.”

Keith took a breath to ready himself, sitting up a little straighter. This was starting out better than he had expected and he didn’t want to fuck it up. “As you can guess, this is about yesterday. I… want to apologize. I was having a bad day and was being a douche and you didn’t deserve to be treated like that. I’m sorry.”

A bout of silence fell over them. Keith was almost afraid to look up, to look Lance in the eye and see anger at the reminder of their last encounter. He supposed he deserved it though, if that’s what was coming. So, with a sigh, he turned to face the man next to him.

Instead of anger, he found guilt, and Keith had never felt so confused.

“Look, Keith.” The hand that wasn’t curled around Lance’s coffee was lifted to scratch at the back of Lance’s neck. “You’re not the only one to blame. I pushed you and decided to butt heads with you instead of just letting you be. I could tell you were having a rough time, but instead of being your friend, I was an ass. So, I’m sorry too, man. That fight was on me.”

For a moment, Keith could only stare. Out of all the outcomes of apologizing to Lance, he hadn’t expected an apology in return. It hadn’t even occurred to him that Lance shared any of the blame. In fact, it hadn’t occurred to him that Lance wanted to take _all_ the blame, but that seemed to be what was happening now.

When the quiet stretched a bit too long, Lance finally looked up sheepishly and with a bit of concern. “Uh, Keith?”

Jaw clenching, Keith swiveled fully in his chair and looked a surprised Lance dead in the eye.

“No.”

Lance’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean _no?_ ”

“I mean you can’t just take all the blame like that,” Keith began indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure, we got into a fight, but it didn’t start because of you. _I_ was being a dick. _I_ was the one who was being short and snappy and pushed you into the counter. None of that would have happened if it weren’t for me, so don’t play the martyr in something that was obviously not your fault.”

Lance didn’t respond for a second, just stared at Keith with narrowed eyes. “I… am so confused. You could be trying to make me feel better, but you could also be threatening me and I’m trying to decide how I should react.”

Keith sighed in exasperation. “I’m trying to make you feel better. I’m sorry that I’m shit at it… And also, before you insist on anything, I want to let you know you were the farthest thing from an ass. You were just checking on me when I was upset and that’s something a decent human being would do… Thank you, by the way.”

It was Lance’s turn to sigh, though Keith could swear he saw a ghost of a smile just before Lance pressed his palm to his face. “This conversation has barely started and it feels like we’re stuck in a whirlpool. Listen—” the hand dropped and Lance’s eyes steadily met Keith’s “—let’s both agree to take partial blame, alright? We were both assholes to some degree and neither of us did anything to stop the fight. Sound fair?”

Keith took a moment to think on it… and had to admit it was true that neither of them had gone into Jan’s _looking_ to start a fight. But they hadn’t done anything to prevent one either. That was something they had to work on, he supposed. He and Lance mixing together was very much like throwing two chemicals into a test tube and hoping nothing exploded. It was a bit of a toss-up.

After debating with himself, Keith thought he might agree with Lance. But then he actually looked at Lance and remembered who he was talking to.

“No, it was my fault. Take it back.”

_“Keith.”_ Lance had turned to face Keith now too, hands pressed together in a steeple. “I’m not forgiving you unless you blame me a little bit. Deal or no deal.”

“…What?”

_“Deal or no deal, Keith?”_

Keith pressed his lips together. “Fine, deal.”

“Cool. Now shake my hand so it’s official.” As advertised, Lance stuck his hand out, face a bit too serious to be serious. Keith rolled his eyes, but eventually took the hand and they shook on it. It was the most formal apology he had ever participated in.

“Happy?”

“Yes, very.” Smiling, Lance finally picked up his cup and took a small sip. His eyes lit up and he looked to Keith appreciatively. “Huh. My favorite. You really know how to treat a man.”

“You say that _after_ we’ve already apologized, so it doesn’t even matter.”

“True, but I see your sly ways, Mullet. You won’t pull anything over on me.”

Keith rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Glad you like it.”

Lance waved his hand dismissively. “You’ve seen me order this before so don’t pride yourself in it too much… But also, before we change the subject.”

At his last few words, Lance’s voice softened, and Keith couldn’t help glancing over at him. He was hunched over his cup, staring idly at the wood pattern in the tabletop.

“Yesterday, I said some hurtful things to you. I just want you to know that I didn’t mean them. I had noticed before that something was bothering you, but I was trying to act normal… I guess I pushed into sensitive territory and that wasn’t right. So, in the future, just let me know if I cross any boundaries, alright…? Hey!”

Keith’s face remained blank as he moved his foot away from harshly nudging Lance’s leg. “Okay, you’re not saying the actual words ‘I’m sorry,’ but you’re basically apologizing and we just did that. So stop. And also, like I said, you were just being a decent human being.”

“Gee, tha—”

“Besides.” Keith stopped himself, considering the words he was about to let out of his mouth. He hadn’t really expected this conversation (or any conversation) with Lance to get this deep, but he supposed he might as well keep going. “If you haven’t noticed, I have a problem… opening up to people, I guess. It’s hard for me to talk about my problems or even express that I have them. So having someone notice and openly be concerned about me means a lot… So thanks for asking. I didn’t mean it either when I said you were just seeking attention.”

Another pause stretched between them, though this time the two were looking at each other with less tension in their silence, and Lance’s lips pulled into a smile.

“We good then?” he asked, offering his hand again. Though, this time, the palm was flat, fingers extended.

Keith felt himself smile too, and he reached his hand out. “Yeah, we’re good.”

They high-fived, doing what Keith had considered to be some bro-code-handshake that he didn’t know the name of. But whatever, the name didn’t matter so much as the fact that it meant he and Lance were on good terms again. He was glad they had that.

“So,” Keith said as they turned to finally sit forward in their chairs. “Does this mean we’re friends now?”

Lance snickered into his drink. “Are you seriously asking me that? Of course we’re friends, man. We’ve been friends since sophomore year.”

“Really? How did that happen?”

Lance sipped at his mocha thoughtfully. “You know what? I’m not sure. Our iconic rivalry evolved, I guess.” He turned to Keith with a dramatic twist of the head. “Why, Keith? Would you rather not be friends with me? Do you hate me that much?”

Keith rolled his eyes, sipping at his own drink. “Oh yeah. I despise you. You’re my least favorite person in the world.”

Lance gasped, hand flying to his chest. “Well then. I take back what I said—we’re strictly rivals again… and who are you so rudely texting in the middle of our conversation?”

“Relax.” Keith had already unlocked his phone, thumb tapping away at the keyboard on the screen. “I’m updating Pidge so she knows I’m not dead.”

“Dead? What, you thought I was gonna kill you?”

“…I thought it was possible.”

“Wow. Glad to know you find me intimidating.”

“I do not,” Keith protested, eyes cutting at Lance sideways. “It’s just that if you were still mad at me, I was going to take it. Thought I deserved it… Hold on.” His phone began to vibrate, Pidge’s name flashing across the screen. He tapped the green “accept” button and put the device to his ear. “Hello?”

_“Told you you weren’t gonna die. Great job, Keith.”_

“I still have one more person to talk to and I honestly think that will kill me.”

_“What did I say about being dramatic? Now put me on speaker, Hunk’s here.”_

“Why?”

_“For a séance, obviously.”_

“Don’t even joke about that.” Taking his phone from his ear, Keith placed it on the counter between him and Lance and tapped the screen. “Okay, you’re on speaker.”

_“Cool. Hey, Lance.”_

“Hey.” Lance leaned forward a bit in his seat, resting his elbows on the counter. “What’s up?”

_“I’m here too,”_ Hunk cut in from the other end. _“Hi.”_

“Hi, Hunk. So what is this, an intervention? I swear all the hair in Keith’s mullet is perfectly in order.”

_“No, no. Not an intervention,”_ Hunk answered. _“More like a… distraction.”_

“Distraction from what?” Keith raised his eyebrows, setting his macchiato down.

_“Well, okay. It’s not really a distraction. It’s more like—”_

_“An intervention that’s a distraction,”_ Pidge cut in helpfully. _“So not really either but more of a mix.”_

“That clears it up, thank you.”

_“Shut up, Keith.”_

_“Anyway, Pidge and I were talking and we were thinking about hanging out tonight. We can go to the apartment and watch movies and stuff. You can even sleep over if you want, though we won’t force you.”_

“You _may not be, but I am. Keith, we’re sleeping over at Lance and Hunk’s. Show up at seven, we’ll have dinner first.”_

_“I’m making pasta.”_

“So that’s it? You’re just gonna drag me to your apartment on a random Saturday night?”

“And what about _me?_ I live there too, y’know.”

_“We figured you wouldn’t mind,”_ came Pidge’s voice, and it was easy to imagine her shrugging.

_“Sorry, Lance.”_

“Yeah, no, it’s totally fine. My own roommate going behind my back. That’s cool.”

_“Lance.”_

“Fine, I’m cool with it. But why the ‘intervention’?”

“What’s with the air quotes? They can’t see us.”

“I’m trying to make a point, _Keith.”_

“One that they can’t see.”

“Fight me.”

Keith felt himself smile, and Lance smirked right back. “Anyway, what’s this intervention for. I thought we fixed Lance’s drinking problem.”

“Hey! I never had a drinking problem, don’t make things up.”

Keith just shrugged.

_“You know very well what it’s for; it’s for you.”_

Well… _in theory,_ Keith knew that. But hearing her say it made him pause. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lance glance at him.

“And what does having a sleepover have to do with me?”

_“We proved it last night—hanging out with other people is good for you. You know, it’s scientifically proven that humans are pack animals. Back when our species were hunter-gatherers, we would always keep in close proximity for safety reasons. Now it’s built into our DNA to feel safer in packs.”_

“So?”

_“So. We’re all going to pile on Lance and Hunk’s apartment floor and sleep there so that you feel the benefits of being in a pack.”_

_“Think of it as, like, us supporting you. We know you’ve been dealing with some stuff lately. Of course, we don’t know what that is—or at least_ I _don’t know what it is, but it’s cool. You deal with it the way you need to deal with it. But, you know, we’re here if you need us if you wanna talk or hang out or whatever.”_

A long bout of silence ensued between the four of them, all waiting for Keith to answer. Keith _himself_ was waiting to hear his answer, though he realized he actually needed to make a decision first. But the question remained: what did he want? Did he want to spend the night with people offering to support him or would he rather head for the quiet solitude of his own apartment? Usual-Keith would decline the offer and prefer heading home for some personal time. Now-Keith, however, found himself second-guessing.

Maybe it was the fact that Pidge was right and he had noticed a change in his mood since she slept over last night, or maybe it was because Lance was staring at him like a stray puppy, but Keith finally answered in agreement:

“Yeah. Okay.”

_“Yes, awesome,”_ Pidge cheered through his phone. _“I’m bringing Cards Against Humanity.”_

_“Ugh,”_ Hunk groaned, just as Lance cheered “Aw yeah! Prepare to get owned!”

Keith rolled his eyes, propping his chin in his hand as he watched Lance bounce in his chair, fists pumping through the air in obvious excitement. Seconds later, he caught Keith watching and lowered his arms a bit with a smile. Keith felt the corners of his lips twitch in response.

“Lance and Keith, two of my favorite customers.”

Both boys looked up at the address.

“Oh, Jan,” Lance responded, leaning on the counter with an elbow and a smirk. “What’s up, boss?”

Keith was somehow unsurprised yet still hit with an imminent sense of danger as Jan propped their hands on their hips, raising one eyebrow. “You boys look like you’re having a good time over here.”

Keith could practically feel Lance go still beside him, eyes unblinking as he stared at the owner of the very coffee shop they sat in. “Uh… yeah. We’re having a decent time. Right, Keith?”

Normally, Keith loved Jan and thought of them as one of the most respectable entrepreneurs of a local business he had ever met. But right now, he really wanted to kick Lance for bringing him into the conversation. “Yeah. We’re doing good… Do you need anything?”

“Not particularly,” Jan answered, sweeping a singular braid of hair from their face with one tilt of the head. “I just wanted to see how two of my faithful regulars were doing… So I heard from Leo that you boys got into a fight yesterday.”

Lance’s elbow slipped off the table. Keith swallowed awkwardly.

“Uh, yeah,” Lance began, suddenly sitting up straight and barely able to make eye contact. “We… had a bit of a heated argument. But we’re fine now, I swear.”

“You’re fine now, hmm?” Jan asked, eyebrow still lifted as they turned to Keith. “Is that true?”

Keith sat up too at the sudden attention. “Completely. One hundred percent.”

There was a long pause, and Lance and Keith refused to look at each other as the heavy stare-down from Jan fell over them.

“That’s good to hear. I would hate to have to ban you. Or worse, throw you out myself. But I can trust you to behave, can’t I?”

“Absolutely,” Keith answered immediately. Lance nodded vigorously beside him.

Jan seemed satisfied, because they gave a nod of approval. “Very well then. Thank you for your continued patronage… Hi, Pidge.”

_“Hey, Jan!”_ Pidge called cheerily, and Keith could _hear_ the shit-eating grin on her face. _“How’s business today?”_

“Doing fairly well, thank you,” Jan answered with a small smile, leaning on the counter toward Keith’s phone. “How are you? How’s Rover coming along?”

_“I’m good, and Rover’s doing great. I almost finished programing all his voice commands. I’ll have to show you when I’m finally done.”_

“I look forward to that. And is Hunk there? I thought I heard his voice earlier.”

_“Yeah I’m here. Hey, Jan.”_

“And how are you, dear? How’s Shay?”

_“We’re both good, thanks. And normally, you know, I would ask you how you were doing and stuff but Pidge just did so… Anyway yeah, things are great.”_

“Glad to hear it.” Jan’s smile had grown a bit as they stood straight again. “Now, while I would love to stick around and talk with you all, I do have a business to run. It was great talking to you. Take care, boys.” They gave a pointed look at the two sitting at the counter, raising their eyebrows, before finally turning and heading through the doorway into the back of the café.

For a moment, Keith and Lance sat in stiff silence. Keith swore he could hear Pidge choking back a laugh.

_“I am so glad we got to eavesdrop on that,”_ she finally said. _“I love Jan. An icon and my hero.”_

“Speak for yourself,” Lance huffed, slumping so his forehead rested on the table. “I thought Jan was gonna kill me.”

“Same here.”

_“I mean, that was kinda your fault,”_ Pidge chimed.

“Oh yeah? And if we were about to _die,_ you would just stand by and let it happen?!”

_“To be honest, if it was Jan, I wouldn’t be anywhere near the area.”_

“Gee, thanks, Hunk. Glad to know my best friend has my back.”

_“Any time, man.”_

_“Anyway, near-death experiences aside, we all agree to meet later, right?”_

Keith sighed, leaning on the table with his elbows and taking his drink in both hands. “Yeah.”

“I’ll be later than seven because that’s when I get off work, but yeah, I’ll be there.”

_“Cool, cool. I’ll see you nerds later.”_

_“See ya, guys.”_

_“And, Keith, if you skip out… I will look for you, I will find you. And I will kill you.”_

“Bet.”

Not giving her enough time to reply, Keith tapped his phone screen and ended the call.

Lance lifted his head from the counter to look at him. “Did you seriously just challenge Pidge to hunt down and kill you?”

Keith smirked into his coffee. “What? You worried about me?”

“Psh, no. But it’s _Pidge_ and I don’t want to be linked to any murders.”

“Right, sure.”

“You know I have a right to be concerned.”

Keith chuckled, taking a long drink from his cooling macchiato and setting it down. “To think I was worried about _you_ killing me a few minutes ago.”

Lance sat up, squaring his shoulders indignantly. “What? You don’t think I have the skills?” He lifted both hands, pretending to brace a gun to his shoulder. “I could snipe you from the top of the Natural Sciences building easy.”

“You just announced that to this entire café. Good luck getting away with it.”

Lance waved him off, propping himself on his elbow and snagging his mocha in one hand. “Please, I’m like a _ninja._ No one would ever know.”

“Wow, I’m really feeling this new friendship.”

“I mean, I said I _could._ I’m not going to because we’re friends.”

Keith bit back a smile. “I appreciate that.”

Lance winked at him. “Any time, buddy.”

A small silence fell between them, the two boys nursing their drinks in their hands and sipping them. For the first time in a while, Keith felt calm. Like truly calm, which was a liberating change from the constant anxiety that had plagued him over the past week. And to be honest, he was glad he was sharing this moment with Lance. It was nice to be on good terms with him again.

Then Lance casually set down his cup. “Speaking of dying.”

“Wow, great transition.”

Lance laughed a little, though he quickly sobered as he looked at Keith. “Who else were you planning on talking to today besides me?”

Just the thought of it made Keith’s stomach turn and suddenly he found the patterns in the wooden tabletop very interesting.

Lance hadn’t stopped staring at him. “You mentioned to Pidge that you still had someone else to talk to. Who is it?”

Keith sighed, thumbing the rim of his cup. “Well, there are two. One was Leo, who I already apologized to about yesterday. The other is Shiro and I honestly think calling him will send me to an early grave.”

“Why? Is he mad?”

Keith ran a hand through his hair, scratching at the back of his head roughly. “No, it’s the opposite. We had a fight after Halloween and I’ve been avoiding him ever since. It’s not that he’s mad, just… we’re having a disagreement? I don’t know, it’s complicated.”

“Since Halloween?” Lance sat back heavily in his chair, eyebrows creased in thought. “Well that explains why you seemed off… And you never told anyone?”

Keith shrugged. “Not until yesterday.”

There was a heavy sigh. “Keith, listen. You know you have people you can talk to, right? You have people looking out for you, myself included.”

“You sound like Pidge.”

“Well, Pidge is right.” Lance turned in his chair and sat forward, making a point to look Keith in the eye as he spoke. “You get that right? You can talk to me if you need to. I swear I will never judge you.”

Suddenly it was hard to keep eye contact, but Keith felt himself smile a little. “Thanks.”

Lance nodded, sitting back just a little bit. “No problem. Now when were you planning on calling Shiro?”

Keith scratched at his cheek. “Sometime today…”

“You wanna go now?”

Keith turned to his seatmate, and Lance sent him a warm smile. “I can tell you’re nervous. Don’t worry, I’ll be waiting right here for you to get back. Scout’s honor.”

There was a slight pause. “Thanks, Lance.”

“You’re thanking me too much today, it’s weird. Just go get ’em, tiger,”

Keith took a moment to collect himself, realizing that the inevitable was finally arriving and he hadn’t done much to delay it. Slowly, he pushed himself out of his chair, his chest feeling tight.

“Right. Okay, I can do this. It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

“Definitely. Plus, you know what else is fine? That ass.”

Keith turned to look at Lance again and saw him waggle his eyebrows. Suddenly he was finding it very hard not to laugh. “Are you serious? Is this the time?”

Lance shrugged, smirking at a job well done. “I’d say so. Now go on before you can talk yourself out of it.”

For the moment, Keith remained still, eyes locked on Lance’s face and studying that smile. It was familiar, coy and a bit mischievous. But it was comforting, and it somehow gave Keith the courage to take that step forward.

He took a deep breath and slid his phone off the table. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Good luck. You got this.”

Keith tried to return Lance’s smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. With that, he turned and made his way out of the café.

“Hah… okay,” Keith sighed to himself, pushing through the door out onto the sidewalk. He was already scrolling through his phone, searching for his brother’s name in the contact list. He tapped when he saw “Shiro,” but paused with his thumb hovering over the call option. And he stared at it, frozen in front of the café window.

Oh, God, he was actually going to call Shiro.

Out of the corner of his eye, a bit of movement caught Keith’s attention. Chest clenching, he jumped, head turning quickly to the side. Lance was watching him from inside the café, waving. As soon as their eyes met, Lance smiled, giving an encouraging thumbs up.

Keith couldn’t get himself to do more than take a breath, and he turned back to stare down at his phone screen.  A second later, his thumb pressed the call button. And he immediately dropped his phone.

_“Shit,”_ he hissed, fumbling to catch it and almost failing horribly. But he gripped the phone by his fingertips, staring at the screen with wide eyes. The timer was counting.

He quickly put it to his ear and caught it ring once before the line went silent.

_“Keith?”_

Keith swallowed, both hands cupped around the speaker. “Hi, Shiro.”

_“Keith.”_ The smile was plainly obvious in his voice, but it came hesitantly, wavering slightly in the pause that followed. _“Hey. How are you?”_

“Good.” Keith tried to get himself to relax, pulling one hand from his phone and shoving it into his pocket. “You?”

“Alright.”

The fragile rhythm they had managed to assemble fell apart, and each of them went uncomfortably silent. Keith shifted on his feet, shuffling out of the way of a woman walking into Jan’s, and sat on the edge of the brick at his feet. He could feel his heart beating faster than usual.

“Listen, Shiro—”

_“Before you say anything,”_ Shiro interrupted, and Keith could hear the little sigh, imagine his brother running a hand through his hair. _“I want you to know that I’m sorry. I got caught up in my plan of getting you to talk to mom and dad again and didn’t stop to think that you were being hurt by all of this. I just want you to have the family you deserve and I just… I bulldozed ahead. But I’ve given it some thought, and I won’t bother you about this anymore. You have every right not to talk to our parents and I fully respect that. More than whatever deluded ideas I have about it, you deserve to be happy. And you should be the only one that decides how that happens.”_

Keith could feel the smile pulling at his lips before Shiro had finished. It tugged at his mouth gently, forming a small crescent that came rather easily. And he felt warm inside, like a candle had been lit in his chest.

“Shiro… I am happy. I may not have a normal, nuclear family, but I have you. You’re the best family I could have ever hoped for. You’re always willing to do so much for me even though we’re not blood—we’ve always had more than that. At least, that’s how I feel… Shiro, you’re my brother. I love you.”

There was a bit of silence, but Keith sat and waited, still smiling a bit as he nudged a pebble with his foot.

Then he heard Shiro sniffle, and he chuckled. “Please don’t cry, I’m in public.”

“How do you expect me to _not_ cry, Keith?” Shiro snapped, but his own laughter kept any anger from entering his voice. “This has been bothering me for the past week… I love you too.”

Keith’s smile widened just a little, and he noticed that his eyes had gotten suspiciously warm. He rubbed at his face with his free hand, laughing at himself a little bit as he leaned on his knees with his elbows.

“I’m glad we got to talk, this was bothering me too. There _is_ more I want to say, but I know you’re at work right now.”

“Yeah, but I’m on my lunch break if you wanna talk.”

“No, it’s fine,” Keith sighed. “I still have to sort through what I want to say and I start my shift soon—but we’re good, I promise… So, are we on for lunch tomorrow? Greasy Chinese food, my treat.”

“No, my treat. You don’t have any money.”

The bluntness of Shiro’s tone made Keith laugh. “I can’t argue with that, it’s true.”

“Alright, lunch tomorrow, my treat. Pick you up at 11:30?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

“Good. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay. Bye, Shiro.”

“Bye, Keith.”

Keith pressed the “end call” button, placing his phone face-down on his thigh, and for the moment, he remained seated on his little brick wall. He allowed himself to feel the autumn breeze on his cheeks, watched as the leaves waved at him from the two trees standing tall outside Jan’s Java. It was a nice day out—the sun was shining and the air was a cool kiss against his skin and through his shirt. He felt himself smile a little wider just before he stood up and turned to head back inside.

The bell tinkled gently at Keith’s entrance, and he walked toward the counter where Lance was still waiting for him, now sitting forward with a blueberry scone in hand.

As soon as Keith reached his chair, Lance turned and smiled at him.

“Hey, how’d it go?”

Keith slid into his seat easily, feeling like he had somehow lost twenty pounds since walking back inside. “Shiro and I are good now, we’re having lunch tomorrow.”

“See? It wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lance clapped Keith on the shoulder. “I’m glad you guys worked it out.”

Keith took his macchiato in hand and sipped it. The drink had cooled down considerably by now, but it was still warm on his tongue. “Thanks, Lance. And thanks for waiting on me.”

“Of course, man. You needed me, what was I supposed to do?”

With a blink, Keith looked up, meeting Lance’s gaze from beside him. They stared at each other, neither of them making any indication that they were going to move anytime soon. On Keith’s shoulder, Lance’s hand had grown warm, a solid pressure through his shirt.

Then, all at once, Lance’s face flushed, and Keith’s stomach did a weird… thing. It seemed to perk up, almost. Like it sat up, suddenly at attention and anticipating something that wasn’t food. It made Keith squirm, but the strangest thing was that he kind of liked it.

Lance retracted his hand quickly, putting it around his cup of coffee and suddenly sitting up straight. Keith continued to stare at him, heat prickling up to his ears without permission.

“Uh, I mean—you needed support, right? And I happened to be here and so I figured I would support you! Cuz, you know, we’re friends, right? And friends support each other, so yeah. I was just doing what any friend would do and supported his buddy. Friend. Pal. Person.”

“Yeah.” Keith suddenly couldn’t look at him and went back to staring at his coffee. “Right. Thanks. Pal.”

“No problem, dude.”

They fell into a sudden silence. An uncomfortable, awkward silence.

“So, uh,” Keith began, and he cleared his throat in a futile attempt to dispel the tension. “I have work soon so… I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, me too. I mean, I have work soon. I’ll see you when I get home.”

“Cool.” Keith stood up, swiping his coffee off the table. Then put it back down because he realized it was practically empty. “I’ll see you later.”

Lance waved stiffly. “Yeah. See ya.”

Keith turned to go, but paused, briefly turning back to fix Lance with a meaningful look. “But seriously, thank you.”

Finally, Lance turned to look at him over his shoulder, and he managed a small smirk. “You’re still thanking me a lot and it’s weird but… you’re welcome.”

Keith managed a final smile, then turned to leave, the bell ringing on the door as he left to head to his shift early.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Score:  
> Keith - 5  
> Lance - 7
> 
> Does anyone still care about this story? Please comment below.
> 
> Anyway, yes, Jan is a nonbinary, black, person of color that is also an entrepreneurial icon and I love them. I was excited to introduce them this chapter and they'll show up a little more in the future. Probably.
> 
> And yes, if you haven't noticed, Adam exists now because REASONS. Mainly that I'm angry and have many feelings about him.
> 
> Side note: Keith is growing up so much and I'm proud of him.


End file.
